Dark Knight
by NeuroticNeko
Summary: Harry didn't expect much from the rest of his life. One day he falls into a coma- and emerges as a part of an ancient race. Harry's Scath wants to do things that he really thinks he shouldn't but does anything ever listen? WARNINGS: Post!War, Pre!Epilogue, Creature!Fic, Slash, Threesomes/Moresomes
1. Harry's Shitty Lie

**WARNINGS:  
**

**SLASH, Anal, BDSM, D/s, Dom, DP**, **Exhib, Fet, Fingering, H/C, HJ, M/M**, **MPreg, Oral, Rim,** **Solo, Spank, Toys, Voy, WIP**

-and whatever the hell happens in my mind while writing this.

I accidentally deleted all warnings when I edited the summary. *facedesks.

* * *

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

To clear things up, Harry is the DOMNINANT in this fic. Don't like, don't read.

**Revised 1/07/2013**

* * *

Grey clouds rolled over the landscape and the first patters of rain hit the gloomy countenance of Grimmauld Place, who, Harry had joked to his friends many times, was exactly like a grumpy old man, sitting hunch-shouldered from the lack of attention (not that that was its fault, it couldn't be seen after all).

To say the least, the rain didn't hit the rooftop, not really.

Nevertheless, Harry woke that morning, rolled over and pushed on his groaned. Rain. . . Again.

Groaning as he got up, Harry clambered over the many miscellaneous items that littered his bedroom floor to get to the bathroom, hair askew even more than usual. He blinked wearily at his reflection in the mirror and pulled a face.

_Ugh, I look dreadful_. He wiggled his ears at his reflection. Hermione would be horrified at his appearance.

A flash of shimmering gold whizzed through his vision. Bewildered, he squinted into the mirror, trying to find it again. It had gone.

After a few minutes of scratching his head, he dismissed it as projectile hurtling past his window (the boy muggle living in number 11 had taken to throwing random items at his nemesis, who, just happened to live in number 13) and started brushing his teeth, laboriously polishing each tooth.

Filling his mouth with water he quickly rinsed and spat. Wiping his mouth on his towel, he padded over to the small radio that hung precariously over one of his many books on Quidditch and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He tweaked one of the antennae and the sound crackled to life. "…and for the following three days we will see humid and heavy to moderate showers with less rainfall during the afternoons and evenings. Tonight, the weather..."

Today would be the first day he had gone out of Grimmauld Place in ages.

* * *

In a busy street in downtown London, Hermione Granger muttered, "_Tempus_" and worried her lip. It was half past noon and Harry still hadn't appeared yet. Edging closer to the café, she tugged at her blouse and peered at the rain. It had lost its pace shortly after she had arrived.

Ron was kneeling on the cracked pavement, his carrot top hair peeking out of the cap Hermione had forced upon him. An occasional muggle shot a few shocked-then amused glances his way. Ron squinted at each one, probably thinking that if he looked closely their expressions would say 'how cool!' instead of 'what the-'

"'Mione -" He muttered ,"Why are they looking at me like that? Li-like I'm the Snape boggart in Neville's grandma's clothes?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, if you had _listened _to me when I was talking earlier, Ronald Weasley, you would've realized that, no, Muggles have no inclination towards wearing ridiculous looking capes with conjured pebbles spelled onto it!" she finished all in one breath, bushy hair flailing about.

Ron knitted his brows together. "That's unfair! Muggles believe that all magical people wear starry capes!" -or, at least he had read in a book he had read. Muggles for Dummies, he recalled vaguely, and he had found it under a pile of wrappers beneath his bed. Ron then wondered why he had bought a book. As a rule of thumb, any Weasley by the name of Ronald never bought _a proper_ book. Ron frowned and dredged the memory from his brain. Hm.

_...It had been a Yule gift…_ _from Fred and George. _

_Wow, why am I so stupid?_

Ron's face darkened and he muttered absently; "Oh look, the rains stopped" Hermione sighed and cast a curt look at the door. The bushy haired witch was rewarded with a glimpse of unruly raven hair poking around the corner.

"Harry! Over here!" she yelled excitedly, frantically waving her arms in a torpedo-like fashion. Ron got up too, all thoughts of misleading books (not to mention written by very unreliable _magical_authors) gone and a huge grin spreading from one side of his face to the other. "Harry!"

Harry grinned and shouted, waving his hand frantically in the air and dashing towards the place that his friends were standing- and kneeling. After pushing past the throngs of people that milled around the busy street, Harry began to realize that something was awfully wrong about one of his friends; Namely, Ronald.

Was he trying to blend into the wall behind him? Because with all those rocks that looked like they would rather be anywhere _but _on Ron's cape, the red-head was certainly succeeding in… merging with his surroundings.

At the same moment Ron also realized that there was something definitely off about his friend. "You-" Ron said, and stopped.

"Err- you-" Harry began. How to explain that stars in fact meant pentagrams and not little bits of meteorites that probably were _not _little bits of meteorites but random pebbles found in anyone's garden? They both stopped and paused to let the other talk first. When the silence continued, Harry spoke first, "Ron you do realize that no self respecting muggle wears something like _that _onto the street-" Hermione pursed her lips at Ron. "When I told you that no Muggles would wear that, why didn't you take it off?"

Ron blushed furiously all the way to the roots of his hair. This just made him look like a furry tomato. "Well what about you?" Ron snapped, embarrassed. "Did you take Muggle drugs or something?!"

Unfortunately, Dean Thomas, who was Muggleborn, had given Ron this interesting bit of information. He had been rather well informed about the more -dodgier- side of muggle life, rather than, well, tea parties. Or something.

Harry frowned. "What?"

"You're almost as tall as me now!"

Hermione, who had been staring at the pumpkins on Ron's cape, looked properly at Harry and performed a rather spectacular double-take. "Ha-Harry! You could be 6 foot now!"Harry shrugged, wanting to get to the sweet smell of pastry that emanated from the inside of the café. "Maybe I finally got my growth spurt" he joked. Ron didn't look convinced. Harry stepped forward, with one hand he grasped the door handle and pushed open the door.

It read:

Welcome to the _Flying Cat!*_

All three of them sighed in relief when a blast of delicious smells in the air hit them. A smiling waitress in a black uniform and a nametag sashayed up to their table and Ron blushed. It was not lost on the waitress. Harry hid his grin behind a serviette and surmised that this, being Ron's first time to a muggle café, thought that she was coming up to flirt with him. Hermione cleared her throat, loudly, and Ron flinched when she quietly spoke with a cold clipped voice, "I'll have a hot chocolate thanks"

"Ah- a-" Ron scanned the menu desperately, "-Black coffee"

"Can I have… hot chocolate with marshmallows please " The waitress took Hermione's and Harry's menu's and had to forcibly tug at Ron's until he got the gist of it and sheepishly handed over the chamomile smelling menu."Sorry" He whispered under his breath, flicking his eyes up at the waitress, who was already onto the next table.

A few minutes of reminiscing of the past year later, they all felt a little warmer and began removing their assortment of light jackets and in Ron's case, his inspiring-representation-of-the-Moon's-surface cape. As soon as the gaudy thing left Ron's shoulders Hermione grabbed it and stuffed it hastily in her charmed pouch. She drew the string tight and vowed silently to leave it there and never ever mention to him about its existence. Meanwhile, Ron and Harry had started chatting amicably about the current Quidditch season.

". . . and Oliver Wood? Remember him!?"

"'course I do!"

"He's replaced Avery Hawksworth as chaser for the National Quidditch Team!" Ron enthused, hands gesturing wildly.

"Can he perform the Rowntree Counter?" Harry asked excitedly, eyes glittering.

"Even better than Hawksworth they say!"

Hermione, who was never very excited about Quidditch (unless it involved Ron or Harry, of course) leaned over towards the animated boys and asked,"What's the Rowntree Counter?"

Ron and Harry mirrored each other in guppy-eyed faces of pure shock. "Why, the Rowntree Counter-" Harry began quickly."It's the most famous and-" continued Ron. "It's the English Teams special-" Harry followed."-team move!" exclaimed Ron.

Hermione, however, was most unnerved by Harry and Ron's sudden affinity for ending each other's sentences. Ron's face suddenly paled dramatically. "Bloody hell, we sound like Fred and George!" Harry chuckled.

"Here's your two hot chocolates and a black coffee" The waitress, who's name tag read Cathy, placed the black coffee in front of Ron and hot chocolates in front of Hermione and Harry, adding marshmallows to Harry's drink.

Ron took a sip of his. His vision exploded in black and green hues. "Merlin's beard. . ." He choked and spat out his mouthful of coffee. "This is disgusting!"

Hermione snorted "You're the one who ordered it"

"How can muggles drink this stuff!?" Ron gasped, fervently wiping his outstretched tongue on a serviette. Harry slapped Ron on the back and grinned at him. "Never liked the stuff myself"

Harry picked up his drink and sipped, enjoying the way the chocolate slid down his throat. He offered Ron a marshmallow. "What is this?" the Weasley asked suspiciously.

"Just a muggle sweet" Ron took a nibble. "Ooh, these are good! Can I have another?"

When Harry had gone through most of his drink and Ron was drinking a glass of water, Hermione set down her drink on the table and cleared her throat. Harry and Ron looked up. The bushy haired witch needed to tell them.

"Have you heard from Professor McGonagall lately?"

"Hmm… no, why?" said Harry, through a mouthful of drink.

"Well, she's asked us-"

"Merlin, she isn't asking us to pay the fine for-" Numerous occasions popped up into the carrot-tops mind. Like that time…and when Harry and he had…oh, and that time when…"Ron, shut up!"

"Sorry" Harry flicked his spoon at Ron."She's asking us if we'd like to go back to Hogwarts for an 'eighth year', we do still have to complete our N.E.W.T's you know"

"I don't suppose she's going to let us off the hook" Ron sighed.

"So this means you both are going?" Hermione sipped her drink, which had cooled down somewhat.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

Hermione nodded, quietly relieved, she had been afraid that after the war that Harry would become a secluded hermit. It seemed that she needn't worry, Harry had always been resilient.

* * *

Harry absently scratched at an itch on his arm. A few freckle-like spots had begun appearing on his left upper forearm. He hadn't been out in the sun all. Ron turned and caught him scratching his arm."Dude, you okay there?" he asked, concerned. "I'm fine" Harry said, albeit uncomfortably, he tried not to scratch them again. The spots were really itchy.

Hermione, who had been listening quietly suddenly grabbed Harry's arm in an iron-like vice. "Harry, what are these?" She inquired, looking curiously at the spots that littered his forearm. Taking her wand from the pouch, she leant under the table and cast a quick illness detector. "These don't seem to be a sickness or rash, Harry, what are they?"

"Freckles?" he chanced. "Harry! Freckles don't occur only on your forearm-" Hermione's eyes widened, she had caught a glimpse down Harry's shirt when he had tried to move away. "Harry! These are on your chest-" She grabbed the back of Harry's t-shirt roughly. "-and your back too!"

"What? But I swear they were only on my…" Harry had looked down his front. The spots had spread from his left forearm and down his front and back. He pulled the sleeve of his right forearm up. Nothing, yet. _What are these_?

"You haven't been sunbathing on the beach have you?" Ron asked. Harry really didn't want his friends to worry about him any more than they already had, so he spoke quickly. "Uh-yeah; I went to the beach a lot last week!" Hermione and Ron weren't convinced (they both knew it had rained quite a bit the previous week, Harry seemed to have forgotten in his hasty reply), but they both let Harry have his deserved privacy. For now.

Hermione cast another suspicious glance at Harry, who, was nervously fidgeting in his seat. She was going to search all her books for this mysterious thing that Harry had seemed to catch as soon as she arrived home."Waitress!" She gestured at the table and all three stood up, ready to leave. When they got outside, it had begun sprinkling again and they all put up their umbrellas. "Stupid things" Ron growled when he tried to push his umbrella up, but failed miserably. Harry grinned at his friend and offered to help. "Thanks mate" Ron said when Harry opened his for him. "I don't get why Muggles insist on these strange contraptions." A spell would be _so_ much easier. As if reading his mind, Harry spoke, "Muggles don't have magic remember?"

Ron nodded and then brightened up. "Hey, Harry. Do you think me and Hermy could visit you at Grimmauld place- OW! What was that for!?"

"Never, ever call me Hermy!" Harry grimaced. That looked painful. You would've never thought that those two were going out by the way they were acting."Yeah, you guys can come. Next Sunday?"

* * *

The rain had gotten heavier and Harry had been forced to hail a taxi home. Sitting there, with the windshield setting a steady rhythm, Harry pondered over the past two weeks.

The days following the defeat of Voldemort had been strange, almost frozen in time. Minutes, seconds, days had trickled past like thick syrup and Harry had been the small ant stuck in the substance, having put himself there in the first place. It seemed so surreal. Thoughts plagued his mind, day and night.

Was Voldemort really gone? Had Harry really been the one who had killed him? _Killed Voldemort? _

And there had been moments- dark, terrible moments. When the snake-faced bastard had plagued his mind, his every waking thought, his every _sleeping _thought- and he had been terrified. Terrified of sleeping, terrified of his nightmares, his dreams, more terrified than ever before. Because when he succumbed to the darkness behind his lids, Tom Riddle would coagulate from the writhing shadows, reanimated, revived by his faithful Death Eaters, and this time, Harry would be the one who's chest exploded in violent green…and he would fall to the cold, hard ground. Lifeless. Pale. Dead.

Somehow, and for some reason, weak sunlight had slipped through the tightly drawn curtains and despite the pain it would bring, Harry had poked his head out from under his sheets and stared at his room like a startled lamb, taking in his surroundings, breathing in the smell of unwashed body, of him. As if the tendrils of mist curled tightly around him had loosened, Harry had taken stumbling steps towards the bathroom and had sat at the bottom of the shower stall and stared numbly at the swirling water for what, must, have been hours.

He might have stayed there, if not for Kreacher. Evidently having _not _forgotten about his Master, the house elf had appeared silently inside the shower stall and started rubbing his Master's skin unforgivingly with soap and a scrub. Kreacher's Master had been like a pillbug, hiding for safety. Kreacher had allowed him that. But when the pillbug shows any sign of unrolling, it's up to the house elf to grab the ends and stretch, and Kreacher would not let any of the House of Black to be likened to an _insect._

The time spent in the stall had been a turning point for Harry. It was a moment of perfect clarity- he was sitting buck naked on the tiles, the water turned on too hot and spitting onto him, his skin was being vigorously chafed, the shower wall was stuck uncomfortably to his back and his butt ached from sitting in the same position for too long. …What... was he doing here? _Why _was he sitting here? Harry stared sightlessly at the misting glass walls, his hands were spread flat on the tiles- as if he were grasping for something that wasn't there.

Eventually, Harry's eyes drew away from the walls and focused somewhat on the bedraggled creature in front of him. The house elf busy scrubbing his legs was soaked. Water buffeted the bat-like ears and drenched Kreacher's numerous folds of skin. The bloodshot eyes blinked constantly as the water dripped from the wrinkled forehead-but the proud elf did not stop his enthusiastic rubbing- even as his Master ripped the soles of his feet away from the spongy scratchiness of the scrub.

When Kreacher had bundled Harry into a bathrobe that weighed a ton and looked like someone had ripped the hide off of an alpaca, and he was huddled in it, sitting lifelessly on the couch, he wondered. As dust motes drifted in the sunlight around him, he wondered. As people outside his windows chattered loudly and carried on with their lives, Harry wondered- and felt something besides numbness. Anger.

What was he _bloody _doing?! He should be out there, celebrating harder than anyone else! Didn't he deserve the right? Hadn't he suffered enough? Hadn't he woken enough times in the middle of the night, screaming, crying, bleeding on the inside?

A simmering of anger swirled around in Harry's stomach. He pulled at his hair in frustration. He had killed Voldemort himself! He had!

Voldemort was _never _going to come back!

He stayed there, for a while, resting his head on his knees. Later, he'd hitched up his robe and shuffled down the stairs, one at a time. On arrival to the kitchen, he'd sunk to his knees and hugged Kreacher tightly around the waist, sobbing.

Kreacher rolled his eyes at the antics of his master and grumbled, "I didn't hack at their legs with kitchen implements for nothing"

"Mpmfh?" Harry mumbled through Kreacher's sack-like tunic.

"I was just wondering if Master Harry would like to put me _down_ now"

* * *

Ron and Hermione stood in a comfortable silence after Harry had left. "Did you-?" Hermione began. "Yeah, he's changed," she sighed, "It's not just on the inside, is it? Even though he's matured… I think he's changed the most on the outside."

"I swear that growth spurt is unnatural!" Ron added. _Noooooo! I can't even be taller than him anymore! _He cried silently on the inside.

"His voice has gotten deeper" _So manly and husky!_

"His hair looks even messier than before" _So perfectly windblown!_

Hermione gave Ron a strange look. "What?" Ron demanded. "Never known you to be so observant," Hermione huffed. Ron blushed, "H-hey!"

Hermione smiled and pecked Ron on the lips, leaving him speechless on the sidewalk, rain pelting down on him when his grasp on the umbrella loosened.

_Awww…I have my beloved 'Mione, and that's more than enough_

He was left in a decidedly pink coloured haze but when a particularly big raindrop hit him square in the eye, he snapped out of it and realized his was still standing in the middle of muggle London. A place he'd never been before. "Wait! Wait up! I don't know how to get back home!" He yelled after Hermione's back, which was quickly being swallowed by the masses.

* * *

When Harry slipped unnoticed into the mysterious Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Kreacher was cooking

"What are you making?"

"Kidney Pie" Kreacher replied, rather irritably too, he had wanted to surprise his master (and eat some himself, he couldn't do that now that Master was back). "Why don't we eat it now?" Kreacher's ears perked up. His master had said we. Kreacher was a con man by heart and knew he'd be able to cheat his way into a slice of pie. If his Master asked why, he'd just say that Master said he could. He had said we, after all. Kreacher loved it when people left loopholes in their conversations. He cackled. When they got to the table however, Harry sat down on one mahogany chair, pulled out another and gave permission for Kreacher to sit.

Kreacher sighed. His master was, in two words, too nice. Kreacher had been looking forward to a good battle of the wits. Shrugging noncommittally he reached for a slice. Oh well. Pie was pie.

While eating, Kreacher noticed, like he had in the last few weeks and cast an appraising eye over the 17 year-old. Since Kreacher had seen him this morning, Harry's magic had grow. To the house-elf it was palpable, the magic swirled and condensed in odd clumps, detaching itself from Harry and then whirling back in to mix with the magic inside him. Kreacher could see it, building up in Harry's core and it was preparing for release.

Soon though, the potent magic would be apparent to anyone who set eyes upon the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. It had already showed itself in Harry's eyes, making the verdant green impossibly greener, Harry had shot up and Kreacher knew that it would not stop- not until that day- and Harry's voice had already started to deepen. Kreacher knew that he'd have to start pain relieving potions, in secret of course. You couldn't tell a wizard. They'd just hyperventilate and hurt themselves in the process. He bit down on his piece of kidney pie

Harry put down his fork. Unnerved by the glances that Kreacher were shooting at him. Things were happening, he didn't know why or how. The Saviour's instincts, honed by living every year of his life on edge, told him that great changes were occurring. He too had noticed that he was getting taller and his voice was starting to deepen. …He'd put it down to him finally being able to relax, eat good food and not have to worry about someone killing him in his sleep- but it was worrying.

"Thank you, Kreacher that was great"

Kreacher dipped his head and whisked the plates off the table top, balancing all the plates on his spindly arms and trotting towards the kitchen sink.

Harry let out a satisfied belch and headed for the bathroom.

Harry flicked his finger over the calendar and reassured himself that Ron and Hermione's visit was in fact _tomorrow, _and he hadn't made a terrible blun-

Wow. It was his birthday.

Not knowing what to do, he padded down two flights of stairs (he slept in Sirius's old room, on the third floor) and was greeted with the sight of Kreacher snapping his fingers with gusto. The house-elf spoke, "Master Harry? Breakfast is-" Harry, however, had already plunked himself down onto a chair and taken a huge bite out of his toast, "-on the table."After eating his fill, he looked up to see Kreacher still working madly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" came the almost instantaneous reply. Shrugging, Harry left the room, telling himself he'd come back later and see what Kreacher was making… a cake maybe?

Harry stroke into his bathroom and picked up his brush and toothpaste. Looking up at the mirror he started brushing his teeth. Halfway through, he noticed that the rather large sleeping shirt he had on revealed his right shoulder. He frowned. Last night, he had woken abruptly, his right arm felt like little ants with their feet dipped in itching powder had been crawling all over them. Too tired to keep himself awake, he had ignored the discomfort and fallen back asleep. Now Harry knew what it was.

The strange spots had multiplied and crept up Harry's right forearm, dotting his arm like a cockroach had crept up his arm and left its shit everywhere (The author was in a bad mood and couldn't come up with better words). What the hell was _happening_ to him?

When he had wiped his mouth on his towel, he left the bathroom and laid down on the bed. He was turning eighteen today and he couldn't give a crap. Harry turned on his side and pulled a book from one of the precarious piles that were relatively close to his bed and began to read.

After wasting a couple of hours, Harry got up and stretched his muscles. He grimaced, feeling longer and taller than he was used to. The Boy-Whose-Hair-Hated-Him walked over to the wall and measured himself. He had grown half a centimeter overnight. He wondered about what was happening to him. It couldn't be natural. Like Ron had said, could he have been taking muggle steroids in his sleep? Muggle things weren't supposed to work on magical beings, right? Sighing, he pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and decided to investigate what Kreacher had been making.

Peering around the house, he figured that Kreacher was probably out buying groceries and crept into the kitchen. He searched through the fridge, the pantry, the trash can, the oven; Nothing. Suddenly and with a flash of inspiration, he looked inside Kreacher's sleeping place.

Packages upon packages of vials were scattered among Kreacher's blanket. Harry frowned and picked one up, swirling its contents. He recognized it as a pain relieving potion. Were these for Kreacher?

"Kreacher does not understand what Master Harry Potter is doing ransacking Kreacher's sleeping place" Kreacher had silently appeared behind him, without the distinctive crack! that came with an apparating wizard or witch. Damnit! Oh well, too late now. He held up a vial. "Kreacher, who are these for?" Harry asked, trying to shift the subject. Kreacher looked at Harry oddly. "For Mr. Harry Potter"

"Why would I need them?" Harry questioned, he wasn't planning to be in pain anytime soon. Kreacher kept staring at Harry and he felt uncomfortable. "As your Master, I demand that you tell me why I-"

Harry's vision clouded with red and knives stabbed at his chest, ripping a scream from his throat. A fire was burning at the centre of his chest and all his muscles contracted in pain. He writhed in agony. Dimly, trough a rushing sea, Harry heard the words, "For now" and his sight; smell and hearing disappeared behind the loud sizzling that was erupting from every pore of his body. He could still feel everything, though he wished he couldn't. Through the burning fire that ravaged his every cell he felt himself lifted up and put onto the couch.

He cried out. He wanted relief; the pain was too much, too great. He was going to go insane. Suddenly, a cool liquid was poured down his throat and the raging fire quieted. Though only a little, Harry was grateful. His last conscious thought was _Thank god for Kreacher_. Then the darkness overcame him.

The fire kept burning.

* * *

*Sly reference to Kiki's Delivery Service

**Neko:** O.O Well…I think this is the first sign of activity since April! Sorry for the really long hiatus, but even updates will be heaps slower now…WAY TOO MUCH STUFF GOING ON!

Also…my attention span has shortened soooo much, I think it is impossible for me to write more than 100 words in a day. Seriously, when I began this fic, I was very focused and I could finish one 4,000 word chapter in a day. Now, it's like, I sit down to write- immediately gets distracted by animal videos on youtube. I CAN'T EVEN STOP MYSELF! Wahhhh! Anyone got any good ideas on how to combat this? Stupid internet…Y U SO ACESSIBLE?

Please R&R! Anyone who can see REALLY obvious plotholes, or are unhappy with something I've done, or just want to see something improved, please review so I can imrove the quality of my work and make everyone happy! So constructive criticism is wanted- flames? You'll just make Poor Harry suffer D:

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: HARRY WAKES UP?**


	2. A Burning Ball of Hydrogen

**I'm just gonna post daily until this catches up with what I have up on A.F.F.N3T (you can read that can't you?) If you see this sign: ##, then that part would have had explicit scenes in it.**

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

* * *

Hermione discreetly knocked on the flaking, black door of number 12 Grimmauld Place, looking around the street to make sure no Muggle was looking. Ron stood just behind Hermione, his brow sweaty. It was a blazing day; hottest so far.

Ron heard Hermione huff and looked up.

"What's wrong?"

"It's been five minutes and no one's answered yet!"

Hermione threw hers hands up in the air and started hammering the door, yelling

"HARRY! ANSWER THE DOOR! HARRY!"

She glared at Ron. "Ron! Help me!"

Ron got up and started bashing the door and bellowing, "HARRY! MATE, OPEN THE DOOR!"

They continued in the same fashion until the door opened with a '_creak!'_ and the bedraggled figure of a house elf was revealed to them.

"Kreacher? Where's Harry?!" demanded Hermione shrilly.

Kreacher in his ragged clothing (Hermione was itching to knit him a hat) hurried to the living room, where he immediately took a vial from the boiler and hastened to Harry's side.

"Merlin's beard!" gasped Ron

"Oh- Harry!" cried Hermione.

Surrounded by blankets and towels, Harry was lying on the couch, hair damp and matted, clothes wet and stuck to his body. He cried out fitfully and Kreacher was immediately by his side, dabbing a wet cloth on his forehead and pouring a potion down his throat.

"What happened to him!?" Hermione demanded, screeching at Kreacher.

"-and what's more, why haven't you contacted anyone about Harry's condition!?"

Kreacher looked balefully at Hermione and resumed his soft dabbing, pushing back a stray strand of hair from Harry's pale face.

Ron just fell back onto a chair and looked dazedly at the incapacitated boy on the couch, _Why did these things keep happening to Harry?_

Seeing as she got no answer, Hermione just pulled open the drawstring for her pouch and withdrew a large tome, flipped through its pages and furrowed her eyebrows.

"Ah hah!" She cried out and jabbed the page harshly. "See? It says he that ill persons must be immediately passed onto person/s who has experience as a medic or a nurse!"

"Master's friends mustn't tell anyone about Master's condition!" Kreacher croaked defiantly.

"And why not?"

"Kreacher's Master is in a delicate state, too much magic around him will destroy the balance!" Kreacher snapped.

Ron, who had been staring at the Saviour for a while now had begun to notice something strange going in the air surrounding Harry.

"'Mione?"

"What!? Can't you see I'm in the middle of-"

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked towards where Ron's shaking finger had been pointing to.

"Oh my..." She stumbled backwards and collapsed on a chair near Ron.

Magic; it surrounded Harry and rose from him in waves and swirling vortexes.

It was not immediately noticeable but distorted the air in a certain way. Further gaping by Ron and Hermione showed that the colours rippled and shifted in and out of existence around Harry. It was ethereal.

"We should at least move him into a bed" Hermione whispered.

Her eyes followed the mesmerizing patterns that flowed in the air.

"Can we do it with magic?"

"It would not be wise to perform any sort of magic around Master. His magic is highly volatile and will react badly to magic's not recognized as his"

"What about the enchantments in this house?" Ron asked.

"Master Harry has been living in this house for a long enough time for Master's magic to adapt to it. It would be no problem." Kreacher said and gestured to Hermione and Ron to pick up the boy and take him upstairs.

Ron grabbed Harry by his underarms and Hermione grabbed his feet. Both almost dropped him when a spark leapt from Harry's skin and scorched theirs.

"Be still!" Kreacher cried out.

He cautiously crept forward and tipped another vial between Harry's lips. The magic released it's hold on the duo and they relaxed.

"What was that?"

"Master's magic was determining whether you wanted to harm Master. That is the only reason Kreacher let two troublemakers in." Kreacher said matter-of-factly.

(Kreacher had also wanted in the darkish recesses of his mind, be able to order a witch and wizard around. Though Kreacher would never admit that himself)

"What about house-elf magic? Won't that work?" Ron gasped as he struggled to heave Harry up the ebony steps.

"No." (He hadn't actually tried it out yet) Came Kreacher's short reply as he directed them into Harry's room.

The door was open and both Ron and Hermione stared at the inside in horror.

It was like a hurricane had decided to pay a visit, to put it simply. (If Hermione had had her way the readers would've been bombarded with a three thousand word description of all the little and big things that she thought were bad about this room. She'd even count the amount of candy wrappers and books on the floor)

They gently put Harry down onto his mattress and Hermione dashed around the room with a pair of tweezers (Her parents were dentists) and grabbed every offending piece of rubbish on the floor and put all the books into many neat piles.

"Why don't you ever clean his room for him!?" Hermione shot daggers at Kreacher, her hands still full of books.

"He didn't want me in his room"

(That didn't stop Kreacher, though. On days when Harry was out, he'd climb in as if he owned the place and start throwing things out; tissues, apple cores, old socks and even the odd dead cockroach. He only took things that Harry wouldn't notice go missing, of course)

Hermione put the books down and stood next to Harry's bed, staring at him intently.

"Kreacher, you know what's happening to him, don't you?"

Kreacher did not move from where he was methodically wiping Harry's sweat off his forehead.

"Kreacher may. But it is better not to tell the troublemakers."

"You're not gonna tell, are you?" Ron said sceptically.

"The weasel is not so stupid after all."

Too many years spent with only the mad portrait of Walburga Black had rubbed off on Kreacher.

The 'weasel' blushed indignantly and spluttered. Hermione ignored it and started rummaging through her pouch again, occasionally she'd toss a book onto the ground and then she'd start rummaging again.

"Watcha doing"

"Looking for books on how to treat patients without magic"

"So… like Muggle books?"

"Yeah"

Hermione stopped and looked at the heap of books she had thrown on the floor.

Sorting through them all, she withdrew one and flipped it's pages.

_No, no, no, no, no…no…AHA!_She picked up a modern laminated book and looked in its index. _Perfect!_

**Check your patient's temperature? Is it above normal or below?**

_Above_

**Does he have enough clothing on? Is it clean and dry?**

Hermione looked over at Harry and frowned. She began to walk over to his bed but then she blushed.

"Um… Ron? Can you remove Harry's shirt?"

Ron amicably walked over where Harry was and tugged his friends sweat-soaked t-shirt and pulled it over his shoulders. When he did, the first thing he saw was that the spots that he had seen the last time they saw him had multiplied and spread, crawling up Harry's shoulder.

"Hermione- AH!"

Harry had moved and with an iron-like grip that sick people shouldn't be capable of, he had grabbed Ron by the hair.

"Um…mate, if you can hear me. Please let go. I'm gonna lose more hairs then I have already lost worrying about you."

All the unconscious Harry did in response was pull Ron closer to him and… scratch him. A drop of blood welled up and Ron put his finger into his mouth. The iron grip around him relaxed and fell away. Hermione had pulled Harry's hands from him, Ron looked down at the pale sleeping face of his best friend and studied the way he occasionally twitched and spasms in his hands and feet.

"'Mione, look at his chest"

Hermione blushed, bright red.

"W-why?"

"The spots have… had babies"

Hermione frowned.

"Wait, what!?" She peered around Ron's back to Harry's chest. The spots had indeed reproduced.

"What are they?"

Kreacher looked up at her, "The beginning."

"Of what?"

-and Kreacher was back to ignoring them. The bushy-haired witch sighed and almost trod on a few books that littered the floor to open the door to Harry's cupboard. There wasn't much in there. A few spare shirts, pants and shorts. Hermione took a plain white t-shirt and handed it to Ron.

After Harry was dressed, she lifted the book from where she had left it face-down.

**Is the patient in a warm environment?**

The Muggle-born witch checked the blankets that covered Harry; sufficient. She tucked Harry's arms in and changed his pillow.

With a sigh she plopped herself down on the floor and rested her head on Ron's knees.

"Poor Harry, it's never gonna end for him, is it?"

"M'fraid not, Harry just calls trouble to him"

"What Harry really, really needs is to just… have a normal life."

"We'll help him through it. After all that he has done for us."

After some biscuits and tea, Hermione and Ron left. Just as they were about to leave the front door, Kreacher dashed off. He came back with a very, very dirty book.

"What's that?" Ron asked in a distasteful tone.

Kreacher gently patted the cover and blew lightly, waves of dust drifted off. Without a word, he handed it to Hermione.

"See you tomorrow-" Ron was cut off by the slamming of the door.

"Git" He grumbled under his breath.

Hermione elbowed him.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Heard that," came a croak from the other side of the door.

* * *

After dinner, Hermione had climbed into bed and taken the old dusty tome from her pouch. It had no title, just a blank leather (very, very faded brown) cover. She tried to open the book gently but every movement caused a loud crack in the spine. Opening the first page it read:

_In this book details the many inheritances that society denies._

_To my granddaughter, for her 17__th__ Birthday._

_Lovingly, granddad._

Hermione bit her lip. _Inheritances that society denies?_She flipped to another page and found the index.

_Introduction_

_The Inheritances common to Purebloods_

_The Inheritances rare to Purebloods_

_The Inheritances common to Half-bloods_

_The Inheritances rare to Half-bloods_

_The Inheritances of Squibs_

Hermione did what all good witches and wizards do when they read a book. She read the introduction.

_In the many, many millennia that the Wizarding World has existed in, we owe our existence most to the creatures that hide in the shadows and lend us the power to shape the world._

_In millennia past, wizards and witches would've been married off to many creatures,__Naga,__Sprites,__Faeries,__Elves,__Vampires,__Weres,__Banshees and countless others that cannot be named in such short an introduction._

_It has come to many of our attentions that in the modern day we hide anything that we consider '_anomalies' _or so the Ministry lead us to believe._

_What they must remember is that everything in this world needs a balance, a balance that they have denied for too long._

_Remember, a creature is their own being, they have feelings, beliefs and their own values._

_No matter what your inheritance, it is part of you._

_No creature deserves to be treated with less respect._

Very, very interesting; Hermione could understand how society would think about the 'anomalies'. She was, after all, one herself. Turning back to the index she looked down at '_The Inheritances common to Half-bloods'._

Turning to the right page, she began to read.

After an hour, the brainy witch began to feel frustrated; none of the descriptions or 'symptoms' of the creature inheritances were matching with what Harry was going through. It was like he was going through a second (and more major) puberty. He was growing taller, his voice was deepening, his magical signature was changing, he was even growing stronger musculature. She had even noticed the slightly brightening eyes and the dots. The dots, what were they? Why were they spreading?

What Hermione really wanted to know was how long her friend was going to remain comatose. Most of the creatures she had gone through were instant and painful, like a firework. A wizard would go to bed on their 16th or 17th birthday and feel and explosion of pain, wake up the next morning and have wings or other such things sprouting out of their backs but not Harry.

His was like a lava flow, approaching silently from behind and then burning him, consuming him slowly. There was another thing, Harry was eighteen now.

He was nearing the end of puberty; his growth should have been stabilizing. After all, most inheritances occurred when a wizard or witch came into their magical majority at seventeen.

Hermione cursed violently and fell back onto her pillow.

There must be something, _something_.

She shot up like a jack rabbit. Harry was _special_, he was _always special._ Anything to do with Harry couldn't be _common_. Forget _common_! Excitedly, she flipped to _The Inheritances_rare_ to Half-Bloods._

In less than half an hour Hermione chanced upon her answer.

_The_Maister Scáth, _better known as the_ Scáth,_ was one of the first to answer Merlin's call._

_They originated in Ireland and in their language they were aptly named 'Masters of the Shadows'._

_When wizard kind first appeared, they who kept the Loch Ness monsters at bay, joined the wizards, in hopes of strengthening their numbers and because they thought it their duty._

_In actuality, their dying out was because they bred with wizard kind too much and their bloodlines weakened._

_However, they are not extinct._

_Due to many bloodlines having been influenced by the_ Scáth, _an individual who has come to terms with their inner self and has been influenced and exposed to vast amounts of magic will be more likely inherit the_Scáth _genes._

_This, however, does not mean that everyone will inherit. Inheritance also depends on how thick your blood is, this is why half-bloods rarely inherit this gene and it is unheard of in a squib._

_Your inheritance will also depend on how close you are to certain families._

_The most_Scáth _a single family has produced at a time is three._

_The most likely to be influenced are those related to the Blacks, Princes and the Peverells, the founders of their families were_Scáth (or very, very closely related).

_A half-blood will also have a much harder time coming into majority and will come into it at the very end of puberty, otherwise the strong magic's that cause the change will only cause harm to the individual._

_Symptoms include: Change in stature, voice, eye color, skin color, hair, musculature, and sometimes their moods will change just before the change._

_A half-bloods change will fall between 4-12 days (The longest change was by Orion Prince, 26 days._

_(They thought him dead and almost buried him)_

_After the change, individuals will be graced with their own runes;__it is very different for each person and will affect your life at a very intimate level._

_You cannot choose your runes; they will be decided by the deeds you have performed in this life, and in very, very, special cases, their past lives._

_The beginning of runes are often disjointed lines or can almost be mistaken as a severe rash or even severe freckles._

Hermione turned the page but there was no more information on the elusive Scáth. She closed the book with a thud and leant back into her pillow, slowly processing all that she had read about.

* * *

Hermione came back the next morning (without Ron, he would've gotten in the way and as much as Hermione loved Ron, she couldn't deny that sometimes he was a pain in the neck) and confronted Kreacher in the kitchen.

"What do I need to know? What can I do?"

Kreacher looked smug and asked her with a superior smile.

"That is why Kreacher cannot tell, but, if you insist Kreacher shall tell this woman."

Kreacher led Hermione to the couch (which, by the way, had been meticulously scrubbed, washed, or maybe even replaced by a look-a-like, by Kreacher.)

The couch had been stained with sick and sweat, and Hermione doubted even the strongest of magic's could have hidden the odors, or maybe, house-elf magic was like that. She shrugged and took a seat.

"When did Hermyownee begin to notice the changes?"

She scowled.

Though she knew that it was the first time Kreacher had even bothered to call her by her name, she still hated the fact that he just wouldn't stop annoying her.

After fidgeting for a moment, she sat still and thought about his question.

She hadn't really noticed anything major until she had met him at the café a week ago but, certainly, after the war, there had been something, well, different about Harry. She couldn't be sure what it was, he had been fine the first day or so.

_Was it the way he walked? His personality? What had changed? And when had she begun to notice these minute changes that she only thought about now?_

"I think…it would be…a few weeks after the war"

Kreacher nodded slowly and said:

"Shortly after the war, the major magic's that were at play during the battle at Hogwarts and the large amounts of magic he had been in contact with during his attendance of Hogwarts had activated the very dormant gene which laid inside him.

The fact is a half-blood _very rarely_ inherits this gene as most half- bloods aren't exposed to as many strong magic's as pure-bloods are. As Kreacher and Miss both know though, Master is not ordinary.

Master has performed many great feats in his short existence and his genes, and most importantly, his _magic,_ recognizes this. The magic of the Scáth's seek to pass on their bloodline to only the strongest of wizardkind, not to mention that Master is descended directly from one of the Peverell brothers"

Hermione was silent.

"But… there were so many students in Hogwarts during that time. Wouldn't that mean that many people might have activated their Scáth genes?"

Kreacher took one ear in hand and started scratching it.

"Kreacher thinks that there may be a few, but Kreacher also knows that there are other creature inheritances out there that may be activated because of the flare-up of powerful and dangerous magic's that came about during Voldemort's return."

The witch bit her lip.

_Going back to Hogwarts for an eighth year… everyone would've changed in their own way_she realized.

Leaving Kreacher to clean and scrub the sink in the kitchen, Hermione put her hand on the oaken handrail and began to ascend the steps.

_Merlin, I hate stairs._

The Muggle-born witch couldn't exactly say that she was exercising regularly.

Pushing Harry's door open, she shuffled into Harry's room. Striding over to Harry's bedside, she pushed his matted hair away from his face. The recumbent patient groaned and Hermione turned her back to take a towel and some cold water from the bedside table. Unwary, she was caught by firm grip.

With a cry, she was wrenched back by her arm. Hermione's back was to Harry so she couldn't see what was happening. A sharp pain ran down her right arm.

"OW!"

_Did Harry just scratch her? _

The grip on her arm relaxed and she turned around. Harry was peacefully lying comatose on the fluffy white and blue checked blankets.

Frowning, she rubbed her arm. A line of blood welled up on the length of her scratch. Keeping her eye on the patient, she reached for a band aid and stuck it on.

"What was that for?" She mumbled to the unconscious Harry. "-it _HURT_, damn it."

She took the towel, poured some cold water on it and pasted it onto Harry's forehead. From her pouch she took out a yard-long ruler and measured Harry.

"You've grown another centimetre" Hermione sighed.

She poured herself some tea and stirred a cube of sugar into it. Watching as the cube dissolved into the clear liquid, she put the spoon down onto the mahogany chest of drawers.

* * *

Hermione came the next day and asked for the address of a good library or bookstore.

She went upstairs and measured Harry again, one and a half centimetres taller. The bushy haired witch looked intently at the unmoving figure.

His pallor was beginning to return and his scruffy black hair was darkening.

* * *

On the fifth day since Harry had begun his fever, Hermione came with Ron and visited Harry. Ron commented that Harry looked like he could wake up any day now. Harry had grown two more centimetres.

While cleaning Harry, Hermione took Harry's shirt off. She looked curiously at Harry's chest and arms. The spots were beginning to look like disjointed lines.

* * *

It was the sixth day and it was raining again. Hermione came with Ron again to visit their friend.

Kreacher said that he was running out of potions and was brewing some in the kitchen. The duo went upstairs and changed Harry's sheets and clothes.

"Gee, he looks even better than he did when he was before this happened."

Hermione looked at Harry.

"He does, doesn't he?"

Ron sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at his friend. The-Boy-Who-Lived was looking remarkably well, better than sick person should look. His hair was wild and had become darker and shinier looking, his limbs were elongating and becoming thicker, his lips were no longer a pale white and Harry's skin colour had slightly darkened to a golden tint.

Harry had moved on from his eleven year-old self.

Ron watched in silence as Hermione went on with her customary check up.

"Another 2 and a half centimetres" She murmured.

She looked at Ron.

"That's at least six and a half centimetres in five days; this fast paced growth could be dangerous!"

"How?" Ron asked, confused.

"You _still_ haven't read _Hogwarts: A History_? A boy in his sixth year tried to take a growth acceleration potion but his bones were not fully stabilized and his body couldn't handle the sudden growth. He collapsed and when he was found, the damage was already done. His bones were permanently bent out of shape"

"He was fixed, though?"

"Oh yeah, but had a pronounced hunch-back that stayed with him"

Ron paled. He couldn't imagine having to be a hunch back for the rest of his life because of a silly mistake. Actually, he could.

He thought of Fred and George and his teddy bear.

"Tea, please" He shuddered.

Hermione poured hot water into a mug and put some tea leaves in.

"Sugar?"

"Yea"

She handed him a flower patterned mug.

* * *

At four, they left through the flaky front door and bid Kreacher a farewell.

Kreacher stared after them.

"Must get ready"

The magic that had exploded that first day had been entrenched in Harry's body. Day after day it had grown brighter and brighter. Harry had grown brighter and brighter.

Today, though, the magic had been more subdued. It was more subdued than the previous days but it was not to say that it wasn't bright.

No.

Harry was the sun.

* * *

**And suddenly there is nothing. No fire. No feeling just an empty darkness- a never ending abyss.**

**The darkness wraps itself around him, as if never wanting to let go of its prize. **

**The night lulls him to sleep.**

**A soft song promising light and love croons and sweeps around him.**

**His eyes open.**

* * *

Please Review! Feedback helps plotline and feeds my brain.

All author's appreciate reviews! They keep the chapters coming!

**Cya,**

**NeuroticNeko! .**

p.s. Sorry for the spamming, this site is rather hard to use...


	3. Goblin with the Flu? Pfft

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

**This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy- and HAREM (that means more than one, and no, Harry isn't a slut.)**

**WARNING: Harry is the DOM in this fic**

**If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.**

* * *

The sunlight filtered through the curtains of the room on the third floor of a certain unseen building.

Somewhere during the early hours of the morning the tap next door had begun to drip, the TV in Number 9 had been left on and the local cats had taken to prowling around the garden of Number 17 (The old lady who lived there had several mice and hamsters as pets).

A small robin, had, in the wee hours of the morning, been off searching for small sticks, alighted upon the windowsill of Number 11. It cocked its head curiously and peered at the place where it could sense a strange something from the place next door (it has a magical sense, but, much weaker than cats). Feeling a gust of wind, it raised its wings experimentally and flew straight towards Harry's invisible window.

When it collided with the glass, the magical wards parted slightly as it detected very low levels of intelligence and no ill feelings.

The robin spied a shock of wild, black hair before it plummeted down onto a soft, leafy hedge.

There was a smell in the air, like soapy dishwater and sterilizer, it floated down and tickled a nose.

The multi-faceted light which filtered through the curtains lit up a honey-tinted face. The low droning of a radio from across the street whispered softly into an ear.

* * *

Crisp, clean sheets caressed lean, muscular arms and the radio clock in the corner of the room began to shudder imperceptibly, almost as if was awaiting a warm hand to turn it on and listen to the news it chattered on about.

The bundle on the bed shifted and rain began to softly patter down on the glass panes of the window.

* * *

Harry had a headache.

He had a _very, very bad_ headache.

And if a certain portrait downstairs could not hear (Even if Walburga couldn't see, she could still hear, though nowadays it took more to get her riled up) Harry would've cursed with the most foul and disgusting swear word he could come up with.

So, instead, Harry just grumbled; "Merlin's hairy bal- knees"

The-Boy-Who-Lived felt like a million centaurs and trodden over him and his mouth tasted like a cat had pissed in it and his tongue felt like a big, fat, dead slug. When he tried to open his eyes, he felt like they had been sealed shut with hard cement and had to struggle through what felt like someone was trying to wax his eyelashes off before he cracked them open.

Everything looked normal, (From the author: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA) or, at least the ceiling did. Harry stretched out his arms and yelled in pain when parts of his arm (which he didn't know he had) twinge in pain. He bonelessly laid there and stared around at him.

Something was different.

It wasn't like everything was clearer, it was just- _his glasses_.

_Where were his glasses!?_

The familiar weight of glasses on his face was gone.

_It couldn't be right._

Harry jolted out of bed like a newborn colt and stumbled around his room, trying to get a bearing on himself. He felt… _different_.

He took a look around his room.

Funny, everything looked smaller and further away. Fumbling on the bathroom door handle, he bumped his head on the door frame.

"Ow..."

His voice came out raspy and weird.

"aaaaAAAhhhHHHAAAAAaaaah" Harry tried out his voice.

There was something terribly wrong.

Finally pushing the door open he fell onto the sink, shook his head like a dog to get the hair off his face and stared at his reflection.

Or rather, the stranger that stared back.

The eyes, his eyes; they were greener, brighter than they were before and- he leaned forward. Gold, the glint of gold he had been noticing lately. A ring of gold surrounded his cornea. He was also actually _seeing_ something without his glasses on.

His hair: darker, richer and wilder.

He grimaced; Harry didn't want to even think about how tall he was now.

6'1? 6'2?

He felt gangly, he felt awkward and most of all, he was bewildered.

Squinting closely at his likeness, he noticed he looked a bit tan. Harry couldn't be sure; the lights in the bathrooms were always dodgy.

Experimentally, he touched his hair. It felt soft and smooth to touch. He ran his finger down his cheek and under his chin.

There was no beard.

Harry glowered. He had always wanted a beard, or at least the stubble that proved his manhood. It had never seemed to come, nor did it seem that it intended to.

Trailing his finger down his neck, he saw a bit of black poking out of his loose t-shirt (he did not recall changing it).

Pulling it down, he gasped. The dots were no longer dots. Instead, intricate runic symbols ran from one arm to another, linking at the back and forming an unbreakable chain.

He poked one of the symbols situated right over his heart. A familiar, steady beat pulsed under his finger. His heart: calm, steady and unchanged.

He gave out what almost sounded like a sigh of relief.

One thing, _one thing_- the most important thing- hadn't changed.

Harry collapsed on the black and white tiles of the bathroom floor.

It was _too much,_ _too much._

Who was he? _What_ was he turning into?

* * *

Kreacher had heard the thud (and the sharp burst of magic, but, he had supposed Harry would want some privacy) in the upstairs bedroom.

With a sigh of relief, Kreacher silently Apparated to where Harry had fallen down; Kreacher had sorely missed the ability to use magic around the house during Harry's inheritance. The house elf magically levitated Harry onto his bed and patiently waited for his Master's 'friends' to arrive.

When the sound of tapping permeated the silence of Grimmauld Place (with the exception of the sounds of Kreacher scrubbing the kitchen floor) the house elf moved to the front door and opened it.

"Master was up, now Master is down again." he informed them (and being as cryptic as he wanted to be).

The duo's eyes widened and they nearly flew down the hall and up the staircase, falling up* the stairs in their haste.

* * *

_*Ever experienced falling __up __the stairs? Basically you just fall forward while you're going upstairs. Embarrassing when you're wearing a skirt and someone is behind you. Very embarrassing._

_[A week before the train ride to Hogwarts__. Yes I know when it's Harry birthday, ignore the timewarp and get on with it__]_

* * *

"Harry, you look fine" grumbled Ron, who was sitting on a stool inside _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_.

It was decidedly hot and sunny today. Ron didn't fancy the idea of staying inside a stuffy clothing shop and being baked to death. Wizards weren't big on air conditioning and couldn't be bothered to cast cooling charms on their shops. (Yes, Ron knew what air conditioning is- his had father showed it to him when he was small. Obviously he didn't tell Ron _what it was,_ fast enough because when he came home, the house was -10 degrees Celsius. Ron was unable to figure which buttons he had pressed. He also didn't open the door. Silly of him)

Harry, all 6'1 feet of _The-Boy-Who-Lived,_ was _glorious._The ordinary Hogwarts school robe hung off Harry's broad shoulders and melded with the flat panes of his torso before flowing to the ground.

_Damn it_, Ron thought in _slight_ jealousy.

The school robes just made him look like a twig but on Harry-

Ron just stopped thinking about it. There was no point.

"Harry, you look great!" Hermione cheerfully put in.

Ron elbowed her.

Hermione just frowned at Ron. "What?!"

Harry pulled at his robes, feeling uncomfortable. Madame Malkin was casting approving glances his way and the pig-tailed girl in the other fitting-stool was giving him strange looks. The girl smiled- and revealed row upon row of badly fitted braces.

Harry's eyes widened till they nearly popped out.

The Saviour's inner Scáth recoiled in disgust as a strand of mottled orange magic wafted past.

_No, a definite no._

Harry didn't even notice his Scáth rejecting her (he had been rather disgusted at first

because he didn't like judging people) because he was too busy trying to wipe the image from his eyes.

Hermione coughed and cast _that look_at the girl.

"Harry, we still need dress robes for you. I'm thinking of getting some for Ronald too. His robe is just- _ugh_- unacceptable and they also don't fit him anymore."

Harry grinned and sat down on a stool. A draft from the bottom of the door swirled around Harry hair, making it impossibly chuckled.

Then suddenly froze.

A whiff of something had him on high alert.

Harry's nostrils flared, trying to take in as much of the smell as possible. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it would break his ribs, the smell tantalizingly floated about near Harry's nose.

He growled, his Scáth instincts were clouding his mind. The fragrance blew away with the next draft and Harry was left sitting there; eyes dilated, teeth bared and heart still beating wildly.

Hermione walked over to where the shop-keeper was standing still and observing her apprentices and began conversing with her.

Harry watched exhaustedly as Madam Malkin bustled over to a room to the left and pulled out two robes.

She walked up to Harry and Ron and handed them a robe each.

"For you- and you"

After another half an hour trying on dress robes, both guys decided that they were satisfied and headed for Flourish and Blott's. Pushing the door open with a _tinkle_, they were hit with the scent of newly printed books. Hermione pulled out the list and they all went searching for the books.

An hour later, they paid for the textbooks; 9 Galleons per person.

Harry checked his funds and was dismayed to see that he only had a galleon left.

"Guys!"

The bushy haired witch turned around form where she and Ron had been talking feverishly about- something.

"I need to go to Gringotts. I only have a Galleon on me."

Hermione and Ron nodded.

"See you in Ollivander's in an hour"

Harry and Ron both needed to get new wands.

Ron's wand had broken during the battle at Hogwarts and he had been using an old wand that he had found in The Burrow's attic.

Harry had realized that his old phoenix feather and holly wand no longer worked for him. His first spell after his inheritance was _lumos_ and after botching it badly, he'd realized that his would probably never work properly for him anymore as his magic core had changed too much. Kreacher had told Harry that his magical signature had changed too.

Walking briskly to the lopsided walls of Gringotts, he was unnerved by the number of stares he was getting. Snippets of conversation floated into his ear.

"It's him!…Potter. Look at the scar"

"…hot…who?"

"Damn, handsome and… You-Know-Who"

"Ooh! Look… scar! Can't…"

"Whoa!...him? …steroids?"

The strands of magic that flowed from each person were unconsciously pressing upon Harry and he was beginning to feel nervous and sweaty-palmed.

When he finally pushed through the throngs of people and reached the front door, he pushed the double doors with both hands and was- slightly- surprised when they opened without difficulty.

He had gotten stronger.

He briskly walked into the marbled space and past the aisles of busy goblin clerks. When he reached the front counter, he politely coughed. (Hermione had grilled him on how to handle goblins, prideful bunch they were).

An old goblin with an owl-feather quill sat there. His hair was shoulder length and could only be described as tendrils of mist, which, hung from the sides of his head.

It was the same goblin that Harry head met all those years ago.

The goblin glanced at Harry for a moment and returned to his calculations. Uneasy silence drifted on.

The wizened goblin rubbed his eyes tiredly and put down a pair of half-moon glasses.

"I suppose I cannot call on Griphook anymore. What… is it that you _want_, Harry Potter?" the Head Goblin's voiced drawled, lingering on his name.

Harry started.

Remembering his manners in time, he replied

"Honourable Goblin, I am here to ask a withdrawal of 20 galleons from my vault."

The goblin looked down at his pile of papers and shifted through them.

"You have your key, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir" Harry confirmed.

Shuffling some more, the goblin looked down on his nose at Harry and looked back at his papers. Gesturing to his new apprentice, he gave a short and to the point order.

A few moments later, his apprentice, a rather sharp nosed goblin, strode back with four aged parchments.

"Thank you, Igneous. You may return to your duties"

Without a word, he got off his very tall chair and his assistant assumed his post.

"Harry Potter, come with me"

Harry obediently followed feeling intimidated, despite being goblins taller than the Head Goblin. They hurried through many musty tunnels before they arrived at Harry's vault.

"Sir, I do not understand why you have accompanied me to my vault. I requested a simple withdrawal of twenty Galleons"

"Nothing is ever simple with the Potter's."

The goblin held up the parchments.

"I have more to discuss with you"

The hook-nosed goblin came to a stop outside of Harry's vault, making no move toward the key in Harry's outstretched hand. He hastily withdrew it.

"What's in those parchments?"

The goblin ignored him, like goblins tend to do, and started talking at his own leisurely drawl.

"During last year's- _madness_- I was unable to inform you of the- changes. Indeed, last year when you came for Hufflepuff's Cup and Gryffindor's sword, I was unable to contact you due to… _circumstances_. (No way this goblin was about to admit that he had come down with a rather nasty Goblin's cold) Unfortunately, my assistant did not have the papers that were required, so I was forced to wait until the next time you visited Gringotts.

However, I was not expecting it to take _a year_, Mr Potter, what have you been doing all these months? There are matters that cannot be left so late!"

Harry was intrigued; the Head Goblin had personally taken charge of Harry's situation. What that situation was, he was not exactly sure but he listened on.

"Now, we've got quite a few things to discuss, so take your twenty galleons"

Harry took his key from where he had temporarily placed it after the goblin had started talking, the cuff of his sleeve. Holding the golden key firmly in his still-too-uncomfortably-large hands, he twisted and the door slid open with a groan. Hurrying to the nearest pile, he took twenty galleons and then discreetly closed it (well, as discreetly as a dungeon-like door could do) and placed his coins in a purse, charmed to act like Hermione's pouch.

"Please follow me"

The goblin started walking briskly towards a seemingly innocent hole in the wall.

A few minutes later, they arrived into a large hall where many old goblins were sitting in high chairs, sipping their tea, while their younger assistances or apprentices scurried beneath them, hurrying to catch a falling paper or dashing for another pot of ink.

Harry looked around in awe. The place was huge and the musty smell of the room was almost as intriguing as the age old halls of Hogwarts. As the Head Goblin walked into the room, however, the scuffling settled and the goblins on the higher seats gestured towards their underlings to behave and keep still. The Head Goblin kept walking and Harry walked uncomfortably under the stares of all the creatures in the room.

Harry broke into a cold sweat, if there was anything that Harry was still afraid of, it would be the stares, the stares of the people who regarded him as a freak and hero alike.

Hurrying into what seemed to be the Head Goblin's private office. It was starkly furnished, with a few stands for precious looking items. Probably all goblin crafted.

The old goblin sat himself down on what Harry presumed was his chair and seemed to collect himself. Shoving a few papers into a pile, he spoke.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. How ungracious of me. Greetings, Harry Potter, I am the Head Goblin of Gringotts, Kordsik Goldhand.

Mr. Potter, here are your papers"

Harry looked down at the parchments, unable to glean meaning from them.

"They are proof of your inheritance"

Harry's head snapped forwards, "Inheritance, you mean-" He gestured helplessly at himself.

The goblin nodded slowly.

"Yes, but not only that. You have also inherited the Potter vaults and as your godfather's will proclaims, the vaults of the Noble House of Black."

Harry nodded stiffly, he had assumed as much. It was just more money to him.

He probably would never use it anyway.

Kordsik's eyes were lasers as the probed Harry's face. Seeing indifference there, he put his sheaf of papers down.

"I'm afraid you don't understand, Mr. Potter"

Harry just furrowed his brows; he was just inheriting a bunch of money, no?

As if sensing Harry's thoughts, the goblin's hands clawed the table.

"Mr. Potter, you are not only inheriting the vaults. Bloodlines do not just give their vaults to whomever; them giving their vaults to you mean that they have claimed you as heir.

You are not just the heir of one Noble House, but two. This means double the responsibility. You will have to take care of not only the debts of the Potter's but the Black's as well, the people of both lines and the property of both, which may include businesses and property etcetera."

Harry slumped into his very hard chair. _Information overload_, he thought. The information that had flown into one ear and out the other was now being slowly processed through Harry's brain.

"Wait! So you're telling me that I now have to take care of the affairs of both lines?"

"That's right; no heir must shirk or take his role lightly"

The Head Goblin fixed his eyes onto the quivering form of the heir of both Potter and Black.

The green-eyed male sunk further into his seat. It was all suddenly too much all at once. He felt like the day when he had woken from his six-day ordeal.

Like the entire world was falling upon his shoulders.

"I understand that this is a lot to take in, however, this is not the end."

Harry just sighed tiredly and rubbed the hair from his eyes. The Scáth within him made him want to growl in frustration.

"Go on" He gestured, his arm flopping back to his side.

"Being the heir of a bloodline that you are directly descended from requires some… procedures. I will not try to tell you lies, what you are required to do is take a potion that only the number one potion master in this world is able to create, with the help of blood and magic and slightly dark magic's"

Harry sat up. "What is it?"

"Being the heir of a bloodline requires you to have children, of course. The fundamental job of an heir is to continue the existence of that bloodline"

"So I'll have to make children with a Black?"

"No, Mr. Potter, most prefer to take a potion. It is a very fragile procedure and will change you, your blood and maybe even your magic so that your blood will carry the Black gene. It is Ministry approved but not for distribution, it was made strictly for situations where the heir is not blood related. However, I will not push you. You have a few weeks to decide whether you'll take it or not. If you do not take it however, you'll have to hand your status to the next in line, the Malfoys."

Harry recoiled in shock.

He didn't want to take the potion. Taking it would mean that he would have to change_, again_.

He thought of his godfather, Sirius would want him to live out his life the way he wanted to, wouldn't he? But would Sirius want the Malfoys to inherit his vaults?

No, most definitely _not_.

"When?"

"Come back two weeks after Hogwarts starts. It will be ready by then"

Harry nodded and took the parchments. Looking through them, he was amazed to find that both families owned so many properties.

"Wait…what's this?"

The goblin, who had gotten of his chair, looked at the paper in Harry's hands.

"Oh, that is the vault for any person in the Noble House of Black who inherited the Scáth gene. I'm sure you will find many things in there."

Harry looked, wide-eyed at the parchment.

_Finally! Some answers!_

"Thank you, Kordsik"

He bowed formally and left the room.

Harry cast a quick _Tempus _and was surprised to see that it was almost time to meet Ron and Hermione in Ollivander's.

He'd check out the Scáth vault later.

When the Saviour walked into the entrance of Gringotts he was disconcerted for a moment. The Head Goblin was already sitting in his high chair at the end of the both rows of goblin scribes.

_I shouldn't be so surprised_, he thought. He was, though. Could goblins Apparate?

Hurrying through the cacophony of scritch-scratching he exited through the double doors.

Stepping into the sunlight, Harry groaned. He had forgotten how hot it was in the dark and musty vaults of Gringotts. Weaving through the crowd (which had grown since the morning) Harry supposed that everyone was splurging on their Hogwarts items.

Sometime later, he spotted Ron and Hermione in front of the wand maker's shop.

They were very, very cross.

"Harry! How could you make us wait this long!?"

"So…hot", Ron grunted.

He was probably gonna gain some more freckles.

"What happened!?" Hermione demanded.

"Nothing'"

Harry brushed them off and opened the door and was greeted with the place where he had first discovered that he and Voldemort had wands that had feathers from the same phoenix.

While the Scáth was gazing at the boxes upon boxes of wands, Hermione and Ron entered, the door tinkling softly.

"Harry. Nice to see you again"

Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"Hello"

"Let's see: Holly, Phoenix tail feather, 12 inches" Ollivander clapped his hands together.

Harry nodded, at awe of the wand maker's ability to remember every wand anyone bought.

"Ah! Vine wood, Dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches and this young fellow here, a Weasley I presume?"

Ron looked down at his randomly-found-wand and sighed.

"I need a better one."

The old man looked at him curiously and hurried over to a shelf. After looked speculatively at the wands there, he pulled out one and opened it.

"Willow, veela hair, 14 inches"

Ron grasped the wand tightly and cast a lumos. Ollivander's eyes brightened and he cackled.

"Oho! Right on, the first go!"

Ron sighed in contentment. The old wand that he had found in the attic never did what Ron wanted it to do, worst of all, it seemed to consume more magic that it could perform.

Harry was happy for his friend. The shopkeeper was about to walk back to the counter when Harry touched him on the arm.

"Um… sorry, I need a wand too"

The wandmaker's eyes sharpened as he looked properly at Harry for the first time.

"I see..."

Wandmaker's were, and had to be, people with exceptional perception for magic and extremely attentive to detail, you had to be good at making the actual wand too. With one look the Ollivander knew that Harry needed.

Humming to himself he brought over four boxes. Placing them down in a row, he gestured to Harry.

"Place your palm over each box and choose one."

Harry wanted to ask why. They hadn't down this before.

He calmly placed his hand on the first box. A tingly feeling overcame him, it felt good.

"Don't stop" the old man told him.

The next one gave made Harry feel warm inside, tingly too.

The one after that gave him the willies. He shoved it away in disgust.

The last one felt… like nothing.

"What is it supposed to mean?" he asked Ollivander after giving him a full description of what each felt like.

The old man gestured at the boxes.

"They are the only wands in this place that will suit you, the second one seems the most likely but is not reacting the way it should. Are you, perhaps, going to experience a change soon?"

Harry thought about the blood magic potion.

"Yes?"

Hermione looked at Harry sharply.

"Then that one will probably be yours after it. Wands have a knack for predicting things"

Harry nodded. It made sense.

"Now… 20 galleons for that wand Mr. Potter'

Harry's eyes grew as round as a gold-fish and his mouth dropped open.

Was he trying to make him broke?!

"Surely-!"

Ollivander put a hand to Harry's lips.

"Hawthorn, Scáth hair and scales, 13 inches. Let me tell you, Scáth is very hard to come by."

Seeing Harry's face, he added hastily.

"The Scáth gave it to me of his own accord."

"What's in the other wands?"

"Scáth as well, they probably didn't suit you because of the potent magic's of the individual Scáth"

Eyes still wide with disbelief he slowly sunk his hand into his purse.

"_Accio_ 20 Galleons" he grumbled, discontent.

Dejectedly he handed over the coins and took his wand.

Ron had already paid for his and the trio left Ollivander's.

One was pondering over what she had heard in the shop.

One was in desperate need of going to Gringotts again.

And the other one was thinking about pumpkin juice.

...No prizes as to guessing who.

* * *

Please R&R!

... NO, **not read and run, READ AND REVIEW!**

**:P**

**over and out- NEKRO KITTY**


	4. Never Ask Ron for Directions

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

Ps. Fred, Colin Creevey and Snape are still alive. Depending on how I feel, a few more might remain alive.

* * *

Harry woke up and stretched his arms. Languidly shrugging off his covers he took his wand from the bedside table and cast a _tempus._

_Oh shit._

Vaulting from his bed, Harry grabbed several sets of underwear, robes, shoes and everything he would need for another year at Hogwarts.

He was never the type to pack the night beforehand.

You could tell by one look at his room.

He stuffed it all hastily into his rather old suitcase, pushing down everything by sitting on it with his whole body. When Harry pulled the zipper, it came off into his hand. He groaned and cast a sticking charm on both sides of the suitcase. It worked well enough.

Shrugging, he shrank it and placed it gently into his pocket.

Harry hoped that he hadn't forgotten anything.

Casting a final glance at his room, he closed the door behind him, and hurried down the staircases. He hoped that he'd had enough time to eat something.

"Kreacher?"

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"I'd like some toast, please"

Kreacher beamed from his Master's manners and disappeared.

A crackle from the fireplace caught Harry's attention. He strode into the green and silver themed living room and crouched by the fireplace.

"Heya, Ron"

"Harry! I fire called earlier and you weren't here!"

"Sorry, still sleeping"

"Well, whatever. The train's leaving in ten minutes, you'd better come over soon" Ron warned. "My father's made a portkey under the rose bush in the garden of no.9, it goes in a few"

Harry frowned.

"Can't I apparate?"

"Ministry's banned any apparating within the station and five hundred yards around it" Ron rolled his charcoal eyes. "Apparently there's too much danger of any remaining Death Eaters wandering among innocent school children"

"So how will we get there?"

"The portkey leads to The Burrow and then we can floo to an old abandoned store near the station"

"Got it rose bush in no.9's garden. Thanks, Ron"

The image of Ron's face, faded away and Harry straightened. Kreacher appeared next to Harry and presented a white plate with two slices of toast, slathered with butter and honey.

"Thanks, Kreacher"

Harry grabbed the plate and seated himself on the couch and began devouring the honey toast. Smacking his lips, he looked at the time.

Yelping, he ran out of the lounge room. Reaching the front door, Harry grasped the old brass knob and twisted it.

"Bye, Kreacher!" He yelled, and closed the door behind him.

A blast of fresh, cold morning air burned into his lungs and Harry grinned, refreshed. Turning his head side to side, he figured that number 9 was to his right. Harry walked casually over the cracked pavement and to the picket fence surrounding the garden and scanned the surrounding area for any Muggles.

He wouldn't want to be caught sneaking into a neighbour's garden.

Not that any muggle would know that Harry was their neighbour. Grimauld place was still concealed to all but the few who were under the new _Fidelius _charm, of which, Harry was the secret-keeper himself.

The picket wasn't that much of a challenge thanks to Harry's new-found height and he swung a leg over it easily.

He encountered a problem immediately.

There was more than one rose bush. The whole _garden_ was made of rose bushes.

He looked to the left

Rosebush

He looked to the right

Rosebush

Stumped, Harry sat on a small clearing of fluffy grass in the middle of the garden. Sighing, he peered under the dense foliage.

Most of the rose bushes had something underneath them, stumps, leaves (he ruled those out for being portkeys though), bottle caps and even an old sock. Time was running out and Harry had no idea which was the port-key.

_Someone up there really hates me. _Harry thought remorsefully and lay down onto the grass. A pleasant breeze carried the aroma of the roses and Harry relaxed his mind.

He had vowed to never do it and Harry was ashamed that he was about to break it so quickly. He had no choice though; he didn't want to miss out on the train ride at all.

Reaching deep inside him, he prodded the tightly coiled magic within him. A tendril broke apart and drifted around loosely before rejoining the larger mass. With slight hesitation, he slightly loosened the bindings that he had trapped his magic inside of.

The effect was immediate.

The bushes seemed to lean in and cast their shadows over him, like they wanted to shield him from prying eyes. In the shadows Harry's skin darkened and took on the shade of the shadows on a moonless night, his incisors lengthened dramatically until they were sharp as knife blades on his upper and lower lips.

Harry struggled with his conflicting emotions, biting down on his lips with his teeth until they dripped with crimson liquid. Shaking, he lifted an arm and grabbed the satiny shadows. The substance slipped from his fingers and Harry flinched.

He should be able to do this. He was Scáth, he was _máistir Scáth. _He was a part of the creatures that had built Wizard kind. He was a Master of the Shadows.

Gritting his teeth and focusing on the concentrated magic inside of him, he extended his nails, pinching a piece of the shadows. A portion of the shadow fell apart and wrapped itself around Harry's finger like it had always been there, hissing softly as it came into contact.

The small blob then twisted so that –what Harry assumed to be its head- faced him.

"_Master"_

"I wish you to find the portkey within this garden" He hoped that his voice didn't tremble as he spoke.

It dipped the tip of its body slightly and bounced off his arm. The Saviour watched as it dissolved within the larger body of shadows.

A moment later the small shred of shadow detached itself from the shadows below the rose bushes and slithered up Harry's torso and into the shell of his ear. Harry stilled and listened carefully.

He nodded respectfully towards the small speck of darkness as it sighed and rejoined the larger mass.

Putting both hands on the grass, he heaved himself off the ground and dusted off his robes. Creeping over to the rose bush on the _far right _of the garden, which had _yellow flowers _and had a small, rusted metal key beneath it.

He vowed to give Ron a piece of his mind later.

Stepping as close to the yellow flowered bush as possible without brushing into another rose bush, he paused.

Visualising a strand of magic inside of him, he manipulated it so that it wrapped tightly around the rest.

_Safe, for now._

Harry didn't know if his magic would hold like that, but he found no other solutions. He couldn't leave his magic unbound; it would bring much unneeded attention, not to mention the changes to his countenance that weren't exactly...loveable. Harry looked like a monster. He wasn't afraid to mention that.

The green-eyed boy dropped to his stomach and commando crawled underneath the foliage of a couple of rosebushes. He twisted and writhed in the dirt until he felt his hands encounter cold, rusted metal.

And he was gone.

* * *

Harry fell into a fireplace with an ungainly _thump! _He rubbed his head as he bumped it on the brick wall.

"Ow" He muttered as he fell face first into the ash.

"Someone help him!" A voice yelled from a few rooms away.

Strong arms wrapped around Harry's midriff and helped him stand on his feet. When he looked up, he was disconcerted to find someone's eyes millimetres away from his. Harry went cross-eyed trying to see who it was.

"Harry!?"

The eyes backed off and harry found himself looking at the grinning face of one Bill Weasley.

Harry grinned.

"Hey, Bill"

"Blimey, Harry!" Bill crowed, eyes moving up and down Harry's torso.

"What have you been eating!?"

The stockily built Weasley flicked his fingers at Harry's hair.

"Look at this!"

Bill grinned so wide, it looked like his cheeks might split.

"You got so tall!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I didn't notice"

Bill's grin just grew wider.

"Hey Fleur!"

Harry groaned. Stepping gingerly off the fireplace, he cast a _Scourgify _on himself just before a blonde stuck her neck around the corner.

"Who iz zat?"

Bill flung his arms around Harry's shoulders and was briefly surprised at how broad they were.

"It's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Fleur dropped the small table cloth she had been holding and hurried to Bill's side.

"Non, ziz cannot be true!" and yet, Fleur knew that the person in front of her could only be the boy that she had met at the Tri-Wizard tournament in fourth year.

The boy had changed greatly and though he stood fidgeting in front of her, he couldn't hide the power, _the magic _he radiated. Her veela could sense it, this wasn't just some freak growth spurt- however- Fleur had no pressing need to know. She could see that he didn't wish to talk about it and she respected that.

"Well, Harry. Nice to zee you again"

Harry ducked his head shyly.

Bill and Fleur grinned wickedly at each other.

"Zo Harry, I suppose all ze girls will start flocking to you, won't zey?"

"Oh yeah, all girls love guys with a hot bod" Bill chortled

Fleur stifled a giggle at Harry's discomfort.

Harry blushed a dark red and mumbled something unintelligible while studying each wooden panel in the ground.

_Save me, _he thought in despair.

At that moment carrot top haired boy poked his head into the lounge room.

Harry looked pleadingly at him. Ron took in the scene and laughed.

"Harry we gotta go, train leaves in five minutes"

"Thanks, mate" Harry nodded at the still trembling forms of Bill and Fleur, blushed, and then hurried out of the room. He joined Ron in the hallway and cast a shaky smile at him.

Ron looked at Harry and grinned, "Runs in the family".

Harry just shook his head and followed Ron to the fireplace near the kitchen.

Ron withdrew a handful of floo powder from a pouch that he had hidden in the new (and much better looking) robe.

"Unused shoe shop near London Train Station"

The green-eyed boy tossed some of his own floo powder and followed moments after.

* * *

They landed in an unused muggle shop, there were boxes scattered about with thick layers of dust on them. A few cobwebs hung on the corners of the walls and air in the room was warm and stuffy.

This time, Harry just managed to stay on his feet, wobbling dangerously for a few moments. He wasn't looking forward to more bruises than he already had.

Ron walked briskly through the mess and Harry followed, cautiously, as to not disturb the dust. Just before they opened the door, they both cast notice-me-not charms on themselves and then pushed the rickety door open.

"Four minutes till the train leaves" Ron growled.

"Why couldn't you have come earlier Harry?"

"You gave me bad directions"

"They were the ones that my Dad gave me" Ron shrugged.

"You told me that the portkey was under _a rose bush, _Ron. The whole _garden _was filled with _rose bushes_"

"Sorry"

Harry grunted and left it at that, preferring to run through the crowds. The Muggles unconsciously parted around them.

After more running, they made it to one of the London Train Station's entrances. They bounded up the stairs and reached platform nine. They slowed to a brisk pace and Ron grunted,

"Two minutes'

Harry leapt into the seemingly solid brick wall and fell through to the other side. Stopping, he straightened his clothes and smiled at the other wizards and witches that were walking towards the train.

Suddenly, he fell face forward onto the hard concrete ground.

"Ow"

Ron must've come through the wall in a hurry and knocked him over.

He reminded himself to _get out of the way_ next time.

"Harry!"

A bright voice reached his ears and Harry had to crane his head to see the speaker. It was Hermione. The weight got pulled off him and Harry sighed, he'd have many bruises tonight.

Putting both hands on the floor, he lifted himself of the ground and smiled at Hermione.

"Hey"

Grabbing both of their hands, Hermione dragged Harry and Ron over to the nearest train door. Suddenly, the whistle blew and the Golden Trio had to jump and dive onto the deck. The door closed behind them with a _snap! _And Harry was glad that it wasn't his neck stuck between the door and the cabin wall.

All three of them got up from where they lay sprawled on the ground and straightened their robes.

Harry looked left and right, "Are all the cabins full?"

Ron shrugged, "We'll have to check"

The Saviour but his lip, if he didn't have to he'd rather not. He'd had enough of people judging him to last a lifetime; _Ten lifetimes._

Hermione looked at Harry and seeing hesitation there, she sighed.

"We'll just go under the invisibility cloak then"

Harry took his trunk from out of his pocket, reversing the charm and then laying it on the floor.

"Harry-that isn't- you haven't stuck both sides of the trunk together _with a charm _have you?"

Hermione asked eyes wide with incredulity.

Harry looked up from where he was prying both sides of the trunk apart.

"Er . . . No?"

Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"You should've gotten a new one when we went shopping the other day" She threw her hands in the air.

Ron grinned.

"I did that with one of my magazines, but it stuck the pages together"

Hermione didn't bother to ask why Ron would have a magazine anyway. She wasn't sure if she'd like the answer.

"Found it!" exclaimed Harry, as he held up a rather tattered looked cloak.

Hermione rolled her eyes and got under it as Harry held it up. Ron joined them and all three struggled to not bump into each other excessively. It was getting too hard for all of them to fit under it anymore.

Shoulders bumping and knees knocking, the trio struggled to move from cabin to cabin. A few students, may have, by chance, heard strange sounds emitting from seemingly nowhere. An example of that were Neville, Dean and Seamus.

* * *

"So how was your summer with your grandmother, Neville?"

"Horrible" Neville shuddered. "She tried to make me knit stockings"

Seamus and Dean winced.

"Yeah, why make them if you can't wear them," joked Dean.

"Unless you really wanted to" Seamus put in, "Some French wizards like to wear stockings under their robes"

Dean guffawed, "Really?"

Seamus nodded, "'suppose they think it looks good"

"Maybe they're just poufs!"

Neville frowned.

"What's a pouf?"

Dean shrugged and said, "Men that snog other men"

Neville's face cleared up, "Oh! It's not that uncommon in the Wizard world"

Seamus and Dean leaned closer to their friend.

"Really?"

Dean was muggleborn and didn't know much about the Wizarding world, especially concerning marriages and Seamus just hadn't heard this, interesting, bit of information.

"Yeah, my grandma showed me the family tree a few years back, seven generations ago the heir to the family conceived a child with a half-blood male, same with my great-great grandfather, but his mate was a pureblood"

Dean eyes widened till they bugged out.

"What!?" He shrieked.

Seamus looked equally horrified, although he did not vocalize it the way Dean had.

"How can a man have a child with another man?" Seamus inquired, while Dean flopped back on the seat.

"Something... of ...some sort?" Neville wasn't quite sure, having been quite shaken at the time and unable to ask his grandma about it.

Dean and Seamus shuddered.

Suddenly, the doors slid open and a familiar sneer was revealed to them.

"What do you want?" Seamus demanded.

"Malfoy" Dean hissed his eyes slitted.

The platinum blonde was backed by two of his friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They stood between the doors and stared smugly at the three inside.

Neville looked indifferently at them, when he was confronted with Malfoy's gang, he just felt pity, it was like Draco was holding onto something he no longer had. Neville supposed it was just something that Draco had grown into after years at Hogwarts

"Get out" Malfoy bared his teeth and flipped his hair. Pansy upturned her nose at the trio inside and Blaise just gazed at them like they were beneath his notice.

Dean growled, he was just about to shout _Make me! _But Neville had grabbed him and Seamus and dragged them out of the cabin.

Malfoy's laughter drifted behind them.

Blaise's voice floated into the ears of the trio in the hall and they blushed furiously.

"Bet they pissed in their pants"

"At least _my father's _not in Azkaban!"

A deadly silence descended over them and before any spells could be shouted, Neville dragged his friends onto another carriage.

Dean shrugged Neville's arm off.

"Why did you do that!?" He shrieked.

"We could've just-"

"What!?" Neville challenged, "Fight them before we had even stepped on school grounds? We don't need that and frankly, neither does Malfoy, he's going through alot"

Dean struggled for words and Seamus put his hand on his shoulder.

"He's right, ya'know"

Dean seemed to bristle for a few minutes but then he slumped a little in defeat.

"Yeah, sorry guys"

Seamus and Neville just shrugged.

"Well I guess we'll just have to find another cabin, then"

They nodded solemnly and walked down a few carriages before they came before a seemingly empty cabin.

Neville grasped both the metal handles and pushed them aside. Dean and Seamus followed behind and closed the glass doors.

Neville settled down on a seat and removed a chocolate frog from his robes.

"Want it?" He asked, waving it under his friends' noses.

"No thanks, I just had a whole packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans" Seamus explained.

Dean just shook his head and took a seat, settling down near the window.

Seamus held his robes in one hand and sat down carefully, as to not rumple his ironed robes, these, unlike his other robes had to _last. _His mother had been adamant about not getting him and new robes if he got them ripped (or even burnt) again, especially since it was to be his last year at Hogwarts.

Seamus frowned,

_What the?_

His friends looked at him in shock.

"Seamus!"

"Dude! You're sitting in mid-air!"

Seamus peered under his legs, he was sitting on _something, _but, he was hovering over the seat by at least a foot! Baffled, he prodded the space behind him with his fingers.

A shrill scream erupted from the space that he had prodded and he and his friends clapped their hands over their ears simultaneously.

_Bloody hell that would've made anyone deaf_!

With morbid fascination, Dean, Neville and Seamus (especially him) watched as the space beneath Seamus began to melt away until it revealed a very red-faced Hermione Granger.

"Granger! Wha-" Seamus shouted.

He leapt off immediately; mortified that he had been _sitting on her lap_.

Hermione huffed and the hair on her forehead flew up. She was very, very cross. Tugging at the cloak, she revealed Ron and Harry to the other occupants of the cabin.

"There!" she shouted.

"It's just them anyway!" Dean, Neville and Seamus watched as she yelled at a very tall and tanned boy who was sitting next to her.

Ron patted her shoulder comfortingly, "Don't worry, we weren't going to make you sit there the whole trip with Seamus sitting on your lap"

The black haired stranger (who seemed familiar to Neville) shrugged and said, "It was expected"

Seamus walked over to where his friends were sitting and sat next to Neville, trying not blush furiously. Dean leaned forward and studied the stranger on the seat opposite to him.

So very, very familiar...but_...it_ _wasn't possible right?_

The boy had black and slightly matted hair and bright green eyes. He was tall, and was very tan.

"Hi"

The stranger said, and Neville frowned. It was a bit deeper, but, it had sounded like, for a sec... _Nah_. _It couldn't be, no way could someone change that much over summer break._

"Who are you!?" Seamus blurted out.

The green eyes widened and the boy sat up straight, 'Who, me!?"

Neville shivered, the voice has come out deep, rich and commanding. It flowed into his ears like honey and he struggled to keep his attention on the conversation.

All three nodded their heads and the boy looked hurt, slumping back down onto his seat.

Hermione jumped in her seat and opened her lips, about to speak.

"No, it's fine 'Mione"

Slowly, and with dawning clarity the three put two and two together.

The bush haired witch scowled at the boy and just said "This is Harry, guys!"

* * *

Harry could not help but feel slightly hurt when they didn't recognise him. _He had changed a lot, _he admitted to himself, _but still..._

He flinched a bit when he discovered that all three were studying him intensely, it seemed they may recognise him a little. Could they? They did if he translated the way Neville was looking at him, his eyes glimmering with recognition.

Hermione shifted in her seat and was about to speak when Harry interjected, "No, it's fine 'Mione".

She just glared at him and seemed to say with her eyes, _you've got to tell them! And NO it's NOT fine._

He sighed and Hermione declared, "This is Harry, guys!"

Harry shifted a bit in his seat, feeling uncomfortable under the pressure of the stares. He sneaked a look up from under his bangs and saw Neville, Seamus and Dan gaping at him with a mixture of recognition, shock and disbelief.

"Wha-"

"Merlin!"

"Steroids!?" Dean said, a little disbelieving.

"That's what I had thought too, at first" Ron chuckled, "-but, this is a hundred percent our Harry"

Hermione nodded supportively.

"Well, you look well, Harry" Neville offered tentatively and all the tension in the room seemed to melt out of them, exiting through the windows and doors.

"Yeah, you could say that Neville" Harry laughed darkly.

"So how did you guys end up in here anyways? I saw you guys in a cabin behind us"

Dean just scowled. "Malfoy"

Everyone in the room scowled.

"So he came back this year?"

"From what I've seen so far, no one hasn't come back for their eighth year"

"Really? I would've thought that no one would come back after...you know"

The cabin drifted off into a comfortable silence and Harry ran his fingers through his hair. The grassy hills rolled by and the sun dripped like honey onto the green and the sky was a cornflower blue.

Neville sank back into his seat and relaxed, chewing on his chocolate frog slowly. Seamus shifted in the seat next to him and spoke, breaking the silence.

"Snape's still alive"

Harry snapped from his reverie and trained his eyes on Seamus, _No, it couldn't be..._

"Really!?"

Seamus was confused by the sound of urgency in Harry's voice.

"Yeah"

"But-" Harry's voice broke in the middle, "-_how?_"

"I guess the medics just found him in time"

Hermione and Ron cast meaningful glances at each other, knowing that Snape had been a touchy subject with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry sank into his seat, drawing his knees into his chest (Don't be fooled! It's really hard, especially if you have long legs like Harry!)

His thoughts were roiling in his mind. _Snape was really, really alive. _Harry had still been filled with guilt, knowing that he had been there as the man died and not gone for help, especially since he now knew that Snape had been a good guy all along (but that didn't mean he was pleasant).

_Snape was alive._

Neville watched the jumble of emotions that let slip from Harry's face. Relief, sadness and...Hope. He wasn't quite sure what to think of the last one.

Harry rested his head on the window ledge.

_Snape was alive. Thank god._

He was not responsible for an innocent death.

Harry opened the window slightly and let it ruffle his hair.

This year would prove..._interesting._

* * *

Read and Review! XD. Yes, I admit to being a review whore :P

:P But admit it- this story is epic XD (self-inflatulation)

Over an out- **NEKRO KITTY**


	5. Headmasters In Rum

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

* * *

The rain poured down in torrents, hitting the Thestral-driven carriages like a stick on a drum. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead and lightening streaked the skies. The carriages, which seemed to drive themselves magically to some, sloshed through the perpetual river of water that covered the dirt-trodden path.

The carriages advanced upon the hulking sight of Hogwarts castle, which sat upon the hill like an overseer, watching, as its slaves drew on, one by one in the stormy night.

Inside one particular Thestral driven carriage, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on one side, with Seamus, Dean and Neville on the other.

They chattered non-stop about what had happened during summer holidays, though everyone r eligiously avoided mentioning what happened to _Harry. _The atmosphere inside was light, opposite to the raging storm overhead.

"Damn!" Dean exclaimed, though, when he took a glance outside, "This morning, the sun was shining brightly- look at it now!"

All inside peered into the sleeting rain.

Harry shivered in his seat; it was almost exactly the same as the ride during his third year, with the absence of Dementors, of course.

The carriages drew to a stop outside an imposing barbed fence, Professor Flitwick stood inside, ticking off the passenger's names.

* * *

The candles hung low, as if to shield themselves from the rumbling illusion above them. The hall was bathed in a yellow and blue glow, tinging students' faces violent purple.

The choir gathered up and picked up their music sheets, looking at them for a few moments before putting it back down again and picking up their toads. The students lined up in rows of four, from tallest to shortest and Professor Flitwick picked up his conducting stick.

"1,2,3!" He mouthed and then the choir opened their mouths, breathed and began to sing.

_Double, double, toil and trouble  
Fire burn and cauldron bubble  
Double, double, toil and trouble  
Something wicked this way comes._

Eye of newt and toe of frog,  
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,  
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,  
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing.

Double, double, toil and trouble  
Fire burn and cauldron bubble  
Double, double, toil and trouble  
Something wicked this way comes.

In the cauldron boil and bake,  
Fillet of a fenny snake,  
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,  
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf.

Double, double, toil and trouble  
Fire burn and cauldron bubble

Double, double, toil and trouble  
Fire burn and cauldron bubble  
Double, double, toil and trouble  
Fire burn and cauldron bubble

Something wicked this way comes!*

After the rendition, everyone politely clapped and the students walked off the stage, beaming at the applause. Harry wondered if Professor Flitwick had run out of different songs to sing on the first day back, he _had _done this song in Harry's third year after all.

The first years, awed and nervous shuffled into the great hall. Their mouths dropped open at the majestic sight of the great hall, the stormy illusion still rumbling overhead, the candles flickering above the heads of all the students of Hogwarts, most of whom stared at the first years. Some of the newly enrolled cowered in fear and some puffed up their chests and strode forward.

McGonagall ushered the students before the Sorting Hat and bid them to put it on, one by one.

Six Hufflepuffs, seven Ravenclaws, seven Slytherins and six Gryffindors were chosen, their house tables cheered enthusiastically and grinned at them when they took their seats at the front of the House table.

"Ahem"

The voice, though elderly, echoed through the entire hall and the chatter that had been about to ramp up fell silent.

"Greetings!"

Dumbledore smiled serenely and lifted his arm high in the air behind the golden owl podium, it was quite an impressive sight.

"-and welcome to another year of Hogwarts!"

The hall burst into applause and he nodded, silvery hair and robes swishing.

"Now I have a few words to you before you become enamoured with the magnificent feast that is to come."

The ancient wizard turned slightly, blue robes rustling and gestured to a man sitting to the left of Hagrid, who thumped a chestnut-haired man on the back, grinning. The man smiled with a small twisting of the lips and Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"May I present to you, Professor Bainbridge!"

The whole hall turned in their seats to stare at the new professor, who lifted his glass.

"Thank you, Dumbledore."

His voice, seemingly without effort, resounded across the hall, setting the glass down, he turned to Hagrid and began speaking quickly and with fervour. Hagrid chuckled.

'He will be taking over Potion's this year, as Professor Snape will be taking Defence Against the Dark Arts"

The whole hall gasped collectively and the air burned with questions.

_Snape is alive?_

_How!?_

_Ew! Another year with Snape as DADA Professor!_

_Wish he'd just stay dead, who wants _Snape _for another year!_

_Thank Merlin!_

_Did medics get to him in time!?_

_Well- If Potter hadn' t just left him for dead..._

All the students scanned the long table where the professors sat. Snape wasn't there.

The hall soon turned into a cacophony of shouts and Dumbledore hit the podium in anger, or as close as he could get to anger. Dumbledore seldom got _really _angry.

The students cheered and clapped, still shocked about the apparent 'revival' of Snape, who had been presumed dead.

"Let the feast begin!"

The first feast of the year, was, of course, grand and the plates were piled with fruit, vegetables and meats.

The hall was still in uproar, however the talk of Snape drifted away as the food appeared on the tables, the student were boasting and laughing about what had happened during summer break. Projectiles flew in the air, the younger students tossing their food in the air before catching in their mouths while their friends cheered them along.

Harry sat comfortably in his seat, he sat to the left of Hermione and Ron, chewing on his plate of vegetables and meats, while Ron, as he did every year, grabbed a whole bunch of chicken legs and stuffed himself. Harry took a look at Ron's plate and as usual, he was appalled at how much his friend ate.

Seamus grinned and yelled, "Hey, guys! Look at this!"

The people around him swivelled around in interest as he pulled out a wand.

"_Vinum aqua!"_

The water inside his goblet swirled dangerously before turning honey gold in colour.

"Rum!" Seamus yelled, holding up his goblet triumphantly. His friends cheered. Seamus grinned, _Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, turn this water into rum MY ASS!_ Stupid- whoever it was- for tricking him into thinking it was a real spell.

Savouring the moment of suspense, he lowered the goblet to his lips and tipped his head back.

"sktjuierthuifgh"

Seamus clapped his hands over his mouth in horror. _What!?_

"How was it?" Dean asked, eyes burning with interest.

Seamus removed his hand and tried to speak, but all that came out was gibberish. Dean frowned, what was his friend trying to say? When Seamus gestured helplessly at the goblet, Dean picked it up and looked at its contents.

_That's strange... _there was a tiny impurity in the liquid, holding it closer to eyes level, the fleck swirled and twisted until it resembled Dumbledore's stern face.

'No alcohol in school grounds, boys"

He shrieked and dropped the goblet, spilling its contents over Seamus' plate. Dean looked up at horror to where the Headmaster was sitting.

Dumbledore twinkled his eyes and raised a goblet at Seamus and Dean.

They blushed and Seamus tried to say something about the rum on his plate, "auigtfalhyui" He blushed and covered his mouth for the rest of the night.

"Sorry" Dean said and gave Seamus a new plate.

Their housemates had looked on during the whole fiasco and now burst into raucous laughter.

"Should've known!" Choked out Ron over his mouthful of chicken, "-No way Dumbles' would let there be alcohol in the school feast!"

Harry laughed so hard that there were tears in his eyes and his stomach hurt like he had just done a thousand sit-ups.

The laughter died down as dessert came into view, all thoughts of Headmasters inside goblets fading into a hunger for the scrumptious, delectable, succulent and mouth-watering cream-filled desserts that went their way.

All dug in and Harry was spooning the vanilla cream into his mouth with delight, blissfully he licked the spoon after the dessert was all inside his stomach.

"Ugh"Hermione shook her head, "You're almost as bad as Ron!"

Harry and Ron grinned at each other and high-fived, then went back to their meal, Hermione rolled her eyes but her eyes crinkled around the edges.

That's when the inevitable happened.

Lavender Brown, who had been sitting a few seats away and eating some strawberry cake, had heard Hermione's accusation and had turned around, in hopes of seeing the Boy-Who-Lived. Her eyes quickly pinpointed the space left to Hermione and Ron. What she found wasn't to her liking.

"Who's that boy? And where's Harry?"

Harry, who had been sitting there, eating some apple crumble that Neville had handed him, froze in his seat.

He really, _really_, didn't want to talk about this right now. Not in the Great Hall!

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry in concern, they didn't want to make a scene in the Great Hall, in front of all the Professors and students.

Hermione slowly leaned forward onto the table, looking Lavender in the eye.

"That _is_ Harry"

The table hushed as they turned to the tall, tanned stranger in their midst. A couple of the more perceptive scoured Harry's face and resumed their dessert. However, Lavender had always been quite dim.

"What!? That is _not _Harry! What happened to him?!"

"Nothing!" Ron stood up angrily and gestured to Harry, who was sick to his stomach.

"_This is Harry!"_

The tables around them hushed, all turning in their seats to face the furious voice of Ron.

Ron leaned over to where Harry was holding his head in his hands, muttering, and grabbed Harry's hands.

"Harry! Show them!"

Harry looked up then, and registered all the faces that were staring at him.

_Not again._

He lifted his eyes and tried to look at every person at once. Slowly, he lifted one hand and pushed back the curtain of black bangs.

Collectively, the hall drew in a breath.

"How do we know it's not fake!?" Someone from the Ravenclaw table challenged.

"Touch it." Harry challenged, tired of the whole thing.

The boy, whose name was Stewart Ackerley, pushed his chair back and marched towards where Harry was sitting. When he stood directly behind him, he withdrew his hands from his robe pockets and reached for Harry's face, nervous. Everybody waited expectantly, some thought that the scar would rub off, like it was makeup or that it would quiver when touched like some glamour charms. However, most knew that if he was not Harry Potter Dumbledore would not have let him onto school grounds, those were the ones who didn't object and just waited expectantly for something interesting to happen.

Harry appeared calm as the small hand crept closer to his face and as the slightly grimy hand descended towards his face he tried not to flinch.

After a moments hesitation, the small fingers brushed his scar and Harry growled, deep in his throat.

_No one touched his scar._

Wild magic flew around the Boy-Who-Lived in torrents and Ackerley's eyes grew wide as he felt electric sparks up his arm.

Blue and green eyes locked together and Ackerley hastily snatched his hands away, panting.

"You're Harry…" he said and the hall sighed in relief.

The professors, who had been stopped by Dumbledore when they tried to intervene, sat quietly at their table. Professor Bainbridge was looking at Harry with a mixture of shock, and something else. All the rest looked in concern at the Headmaster, who gazed calmly at the students.

_Best to let them figure that it is Harry by themselves than from a Professor's mouth, _Dumbledore thought as he gazed upon the students. _Things will work out._

Harry's mouth was dry as Stewart cradled his hand. The whole hall was now staring at the Saviour like he was an animal in a zoo that needed to be studied.

Lavender pursed her lips as Harry's friends glared at her.

"What!?"

They just continued to glare at her and Lavender fidgeted in her seat. Steeling herself, she got up from her seat and walked to where Harry was sitting.

"H-Harry...I'm sorry. I should've realised that it was you"

"No problem, Lavender", Harry ground out, with flashing eyes he abruptly stood up and left the Great Hall.

The professor's watched in interest (Don't tell them I said that) as the wild haired boy left the hall. Sebastian smiled wryly at the aura of authority that burnt through the room as Harry walked out, his black robes billowing behind him almost like a certain professor.

Conversation at the Gryffindor table fell to a slight murmur and the mood dropped drastically. The five that had been with Harry in the carriage ride, watched concerned as Harry strode out of the Hall. Ron and Seamus got up to follow, but were forced back into their seats by an invisible hand.

Angrily, they looked towards Dumbledore's direction but it wasn't him. The newest addition to the school's professor's nodded at them and released his hold on the boy's robes. The message was clear though, and both boy's stayed down.

* * *

Draco had been watching the whole debacle, his trademark sneer firmly in place. His whole table had been shocked to utter silence when the small Ravenclaw boy had touched the scar on the other boy's head and declared him Potter.

His house mates all had similar expressions of shock, disbelief and incredulity as they raked their eyes through every inch of the _tall, tanned and well-built _boy.

"No problem, Lavender"

The sound of the Boy-Who-Lived's voice sent sparks through his brain. Potter's voice was a deep, rich and smooth sound that rang in your ears pleasantly. Draco watched in detached interest as the boy raised himself smoothly from his seat and strode off, black robes flying from behind him like banners of death, face set in an expression of stone-like quality.

Draco's sneer wavered as he shuddered, the imagery created a slight tingle in his abdomen.

Draco smacked his palm to his forehead as he realised what he was thinking and his friends watched in concern as he acted unbefitting of a Malfoy, even one whose father was currently rotting in the cages of Azkaban.

But as waves of magic and power oozed out of the raven-haired boy, Draco couldn't help but lick his lips nervously at the show of power.

As the waves of magic drifted towards him, Draco felt his Veela react. His _dominant Veela. _It reared within him, screaming in his mind, clawing at the strands of magic that the Saviour left as he had glided past. Draco grabbed the table legs and gripped them so hard that they bruised his fingers, taking deep breaths, he forced his Veela nature down.

He didn't need people falling over him tonight.

Draco could taste Harry's creature in the air, and he knew what it was too.

For a moment, he wondered why a dominant creature such as himself would react to another specie's dominant.

Maybe he thought of Harry as a threat? Yeah, that would have to be it.

* * *

The ghosts of Hogwarts floated through the stone walls and cackled with laughter as they spoke energetically to each other, or as energetically as a bunch of long dead witches and wizards could do. Which meant not very energetically at all.

(You wonder why the author could be bothered to write that)

Harry prowled down the corridor, his mind roiling. He hated it. He hated being judged. He hated being the centre of attention.

_Damnit!_

He slammed his fist into the fall and felt a slight sting. A bit of stone tumbled off the wall and Harry watched in growing despair.

He had forgotten about his new found strength.

His senses grow out of control from the emotional flood and fell to the cold ground. Bones crashed into stone and Harry curled himself into a tight ball, he could feel it.

His teeth, his claws, his skin; all wanted to be released. The tightly coiled magic within him threatened to break free from the strand of magic that kept it at bay.

He tried to still and listen, to the sound of his own breathing, to the sound of the night, to the beat of his heart.

The moon shone palely and lit up Harry's face eerily as he lay as still as a corpse on the ground. Distantly a howl could be heard through the dense forest and Harry could feel his creature reacting to the wild magic that thrummed through the sound.

His pulse slowed and his breathing sounded less breathy, Harry's fingers twitched as he tried to regain himself and find purchase on the flawless stone.

Slowly pushing himself up and off the floor, Harry groaned; a deep rumbling noise that echoed pleasantly through the darkness. Raking his fingers through his hair shakily, he took three deep breaths and chided himself for feeling so out of control from a spat in the Great Hall.

He was still himself. Harry would always be himself, even if he changed outside.

Straightening his robes, he flexed his muscles and tried to lessen the tension in them. Walking briskly, he headed for Gryffindor tower when small, unsure steps alerted him to the presence of a follower.

He pressed his back to the hard wall and waited for the person to round the corner. Who he saw was unexpected. He had expected a Slytherin, Malfoy or even one of Harry's friends.

A small curly head rounded the corner and blue eyes widened in shock as Harry towered imposingly above.

"Hello, Colin"

"H-hello! H-ha-harry!" Colin squeaked as Harry's intense green eyes bore through his.

Uneasy silence drifted on as Colin fiddled nervously with the hem of his robes and Harry stood over him with his arms folded.

Harry came into the realisation that he liked standing over Colin, liked the sense of power he gave him.

_Power over something in his life._

"So, what were you doing?" Harry said, leaning close as if he were confiding to Colin a big secret.

Harry's hair, which had grown a bit longer so that his hair was like how it looked in fourth year, hung down and mixed with the blonde curls of Colin's head. His Scáth reacted to the laden atmosphere and magic seeped through the bonds he had placed on it, tasting the vanilla and buttercup strands of magic that floated by Colin's body.

He fought back the strange urge to growl as he forcefully pushed down the rising magic that threatened to take over his mind.

He put his hand on the stone wall behind Colin and waited for his response.

"I-I uuhh-" Colin stuttered and broke off as waves of power drifted off Harry, filling the air with heaviness. He looked up again and found bright green eyes boring into his, making Colin's breath hitch in his throat.

"I just wanted to know where you were going, sir-Harry"

Harry found himself laughing out loud when Colin accidently called him sir, he leant back a bit, to ease the tension.

"I hope you haven't mistaken me for Snape"

Colin blushed a deep red and looked up at Harry through his lashes.

"I-I didn't-mean, not like-"

Harry smiled, the white of his teeth showing. His eyes captured Colin's again and the pink face turned impossibly redder as he stuttered through his sentences.

"You look awfully hot, Colin."

Colin choked on his words and looked up timidly, golden locks framing a cherub-like face. Red lips opened and closed silently, like a dying goldfish and Harry grinned down at the boy.

"Bye, Colin. See you at Quidditch practice, you and your brother are the Beaters, right?"

Colin nodded, eyes wide, curls bouncing up and down and pale orange magic swirling around him. The strands floated near Harry and with one finger he stroked it.

Colin shuddered and opened his mouth to say something but Harry had already turned his back to the Creevey brother and was stalking down the corridor, robes flying like a banner.

Colin watched after the Harry, rather liking the change to Harry's looks. He liked the feeling of Harry's bright green eyes with their strange golden rings and the way they mesmerized him. Or so it seemed.

He pressed a small palm to his chest, to calm the wild beating. Colin's cheeks were still stained red as he thought about his encounter with Harry. The way his breath smelled like forests, the way his eyes had flashed when Colin blushed and the way he had put his hand on the wall behind Colin, effectively trapping him.

Harry walked away from the scene with a smirk plastered firmly onto his face. Colin was so…so- _CUTE, damnit!_

Especially when he was nervous, and he had been _very _nervous. He looked so delicious that Harry's Scáth had almost broken out multiple times during their encounter.

* * *

Still smirking with a mixture of smugness and excitement, Harry walked up to the Fat Lady, who was in her portrait with her friend, Vi, ignored Harry as he said, "Maple Syrup!" and he had to shout it five times in rapid succession before she waved her hands at him in annoyance and let him in.

Rolling his eyes, he made his way quickly through the red and yellow common room before trekking to the boy's dorm.

Pushing aside the curtains he pulled his robes, shirt and pants off until he was only in his underwear. Pulling the covers aside, he climbed in and rested his head on the pillow.

As he fell asleep, the presence of his Scáth faded from Harry's mind and he sat up with a _snap!_

What the hell was he thinking!? Colin Creevey!

Had he even liked Colin _before the change!?_

He knew that he hadn't, at least not as strongly as he did now. With a deafening growl, he threw himself off his bed and put his shirt and pants back on.

_What the hell!?_

How much was him? And how much was his Scáth?

He threw aside his curtains and clambered out of bed.

As he reached the common room, the portrait hole opened and Gryffindors piled in. Ron and Hermione spotted Harry as he inched around the crowd and were about to call out to him when he glared in their direction.

There was an intensity in his gaze that frightened them a little and they took a step backwards, only to bump into Seamus, Neville and Dean.

"What happened?" asked Neville, following the direction of his friend's gazes.

"Dunno" Ron said softly, scratching his head. _Where would Harry go this late?_

* * *

The first thing that hit Harry's mind when he exited Hogwarts castle and into the cold, blistering wind was: _I need to change._

His Scáth instincts were still dormant within his mind and he grinned with relish.

He'd be the one fully in control.

Padding through the soft grass, he walked down the pebbled track and kicked a couple of stones. Densely packed trees bordered the edge of Hogwarts and Harry walked carefully within the shelter of the trees and into a small clearing.

Sitting himself down, Harry tugged on the binding of his creature magic.

* * *

Please Review! And tell me your thoughts on the OMC: Sebastian Bainbridge,

Reading it, I feel that I did this chapter rather shoddily. I rather like the fact that Harry is having a hard time accepting everything, he is human after all.

…

Scratch 'human' and put 'maister Scáth' instead XD


	6. Harry the Headless Chicken

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

* * *

This time, the change was less painful and felt like millions of pins were being poked into his body rather than that of the raging fire that pulled his bones and stretched his muscles.

His tan skin faded until it was the same colour as the night sky, his black hair turned silver and stretched until it fell to the ground in shimmering waves.

Being able to think during the transformation allowed Harry to eye the silver strands that glittered among the sticks and leaves and think,

_How impractical, what is a creature to do with this much hair? How do you fight with it? Hold it in one hand? Whip the opponent with it?_

As ridged skin formed down the sides of his forearms and shins, he twitched uncomfortably, it stung badly. He licked his teeth experimentally and found that they were once again lengthened and sharpened to a point.

The scents of the forests caressed Harry's nose and he put a finger into the dirt, slowly, he put his finger back into his mouth.

Tasting nothing out of the ordinary, Harry straightened and flexed his muscles. He felt good, _he felt in control. _Grinning wildly he jumped and yelped in surprise when he flew a few metres in the air. He bent his knees, and softened the impact of his bare feet back onto the packed dirt.

With wild abandon he charged out of the bushes and ran around wildly, feeling the wind whistle past his ears and chill his skin. It felt so good, Harry started laughing, chortling he ran in wild circles.

A few bats that had been upside down peacefully, cracked their eyes open and shot peeved off expressions at Harry before flying away to a quieter tree.

Finally, he flopped down onto the ground. Flinging his arms out in a carefree way. He promised himself he'd come out every night for one of these.

The moon shone down brightly onto Harry's face, lighting up his eyes. He sighed in content, this was so perfect.

Randomly, Harry felt an itch on his backside and he wrinkled his brows. He put his hand *there and scratched it.

It didn't go away.

He scratched it some more.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE"

Harry let out the most manly shriek he could manage (which wasn't very manly at all) and stood up abruptly, like a jack-in-the-box.

_Holy Bejeezus!_

Harry's arse felt like someone had scrubbed it raw with sandpaper and then doused in chilli powder.

In the simplest words possible, his _arse was on fire_.

Putting one clawed hand to his silver hair, Harry dashed around like a mad chicken with the other stuck to his backside.

An owl who had been going for a night fly opened its eyes wider than should be naturally possible and stared at Harry.

_Silly wizard, is he trying to pull his bloody tail feathers off? Am I glad that my owner is not like HIM!_

Meanwhile, Harry felt a small lump appear beneath his fingers.

_HOLY CRAP, HOLY CRAP, THE PAIN, THE PAIN! THE PAIN!_

His brain emptied of all thought and he just ran and ran, letting his feet lead him to the fresh smell of water. The landscape whirled around him messily and the moon shone tauntingly at him as he ran to the Great Lake, clambered through the dense foliage to get to the riverbed and dunked his backside in the refreshingly cool waters.

Not for long.

Only moments after the initial shock of cold water, his arse continued to burn. Waving it desperately in the water, seeking for release from the pain of it all.

Instead of stopping it though, his burn faded from the edges of his backside till it was nearly all concentrated on the base of his spine.

In a sort of dazed horror, Harry realised that though he hadn't moved from his initial position, he strangely felt like more and more of his backside was being submerged under water. With trepidation, he grasped –whatever it was- with his hands.

Before he could properly comprehend the strange thing, a lightning bolt of pain shot through his whole body. Yelping in pain, Harry's natural reflexes brought the source of pain to his face.

Ok.

There was a long, furry rope looking thing in front of his face.

Yeah.

But that wasn't the worrying thing.

No.

The worrying thing was that someone _something_ was hanging off it.

By its teeth.

It would probably leave a small crescent shaped scar.

It hurt.

In this kind of situation, the only thing that you can really do is scream.

And that's what they did.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

They screamed in sync, both not moving a muscle, one with lengthy silver hair and the other with short, wavy kelp tresses.

The dual screaming went on for a while, sleeping birds opened their eyes in alarm and flew from their trees in haste, flying away from where two weirdos were disturbing their peaceful night. A rabbit woke up in its burrow and twitched its ear in annoyance. The owl that had watched Harry's inane jumping about earlier blinked its eyes at him.

_Great, now the silly wizard has a friend._

Finally, Harry's mind cleared enough to swing his _thing _and it caused the slack jaws of the other to fly off _it_ and splash into the coldly glimmering waters of the Great Lake.

The waters trembled slightly as the figure disappeared beneath the dark water and Harry cast suspicious glances all around.

Silence.

He peered at the waters of the lake. Still. Apart from a few slight ripples caused by the night wind.

When he felt that he was mostly safe, he grasped the fearsome appendage that now lay innocently upon the tall grass and weeds by the lake.

He could feel his fingers on the tail and when he pulled on the fluffy tuft of bright silver hair, he could feel pain. With his fingers he followed the furry rope, until it reached the bottom of his spine.

It was a goddamn tail. A _tail!_

Harry had known that after the initial change and his six day ordeal that there would be more to come.

_Just-_

He sighed and pulled _his tail_ closer for inspection. There was a small wound near the tuft or flame-like fur at the end of his tail. He healed it with a rather badly cast spell but a scar remained, probably because his tail only _just _been formed when it had been bitten. _Brutally, _Harry thought, fingering the small silvery-pink scar that was in the shape of a crescent moon.

Harry experimentally tried to move his tail-

-and moaned in agony when it swung and thumped him on the nose.

_Damn, that thing is more hazardous than it looks._

He shifted slightly so he could glare at his tail, which poked out oddly from the back of his trousers. Keeping his eyes on it, he tried moving it minutely. It was enough of a push to send the tail thwacking gently onto Harry's arm. He tried again, but with an even smaller movement and it wavered gently into the air.

"Sorry"

Harry's tail thudded against the ground and he turned abruptly, causing it to wrap around his leg.

A water-drenched head bobbed on the gentle ripples of the Great Lake, the light of the moon causing the kelp-green hair to look a silvery turquoise.

Harry, sensing no blood thirst from the creature, inched closer to the lake until the water chilled his bare toes.

"Sorry for biting your tail" A musical voice came from a pouting mouth while its brown eyes seemed to laugh at him.

"Who are you?" Harry whispered, not wanting to scare the ethereal creature away.

"I could ask the same of yourself, Mr. Strange Creature"

With a jolt, Harry realised that maybe, this strange creature was more afraid of scaring _Harry _away. After all, he was a creature as dark as night, with glinting sharp teeth, silver hair and a tail that looked like a whip.

"Strange creature?" Harry smirked.

The creature with the head of kelp grinned, until it showed small pointed teeth.

"I'm the naiad of this lake, what are you?"

Harry looked at the naiad deeply, if this was a student of Hogwarts then he'd have to be careful of how much he told it. He didn't want people to know what kind of nightmare-creature he could turn into, he'd rather be the Golden Boy everyone thought of than a monster.

"maister Scáth"

The creature raised an eyebrow and whistled.

"One of _those, _huh?"

Harry looked quizzically at it.

"Your tail was so wriggly I thought it was an eel. No dinner tonight then" The naiad's eyes crinkled and musical laughing could be heard.

Harry laughed, loud resounding laughs that floated around in the air.

"How did it taste?"

"Terrible, I felt like I was chewing on leather"

"Thanks" Harry said, while his eyes did something that closely resembled a rolling of the eyes.

He moved closer to the water, trying to see the naiad better. Without warning the ground began to slide out from beneath him as he tripped over his tail, which had been wrapped around his foot.

Harry's eyes opened wide as the dark waters of the Great Lake come closer, closer and closer, until with a loud _splash! _He fell, face first, into the cold waters. The chilling water entered Harry's ears and nostrils, filling them with noiseless sound. Water wrapped itself around Harry limbs, forcing them downwards and squeezing the air from his lungs. A couple of moments after the initial shock and Harry forced his eyes open, the water stung his eyes and he could see nothing. He estimated about five minutes before he'd need to breathe again, but then again, he hadn't had a proper breath before he fell. Maybe... about two minutes? He'd definitely have enough time to swim back to shore. Underwater, he flexed his muscles and began to move when lithe arms grabbed his own and pulled him upwards, the water streaming past them in colourful greens and greys.

The two of them were hauled to shore, lean bodies dripping with water, hair matted to their heads and shivering as the cold wind caressed their streaming bodies.

Harry found himself pushed to the ground, grass and twigs pressing into his back uncomfortably. His eyes widened slightly, as the green haired _male _(Harry had finally realised that there was no _lumpy _things hanging off the being on top of him) leaned slightly towards him, as if to-

-resuscitate him.

Harry's Scáth instinct made him grab the waist of the water creature on top of him with both hands and roughly flip him on his back, until Harry was pressing the naiad onto the grass.

The male's eyes met Harry's for a slight moment before the brown eyes flecked with gold looked away.

"I could have swam to shore myself" Harry said, his face was a bit too close to the other's but at the moment he was a bit too out of breath to care.

"Hmph, really? You looked like you were struggling a bit there" The creature beneath him smiled tauntingly up at him, eyelashes fluttering delicately.

Harry frowned slightly as he felt the tingle of magic brush against his skin, with slight annoyance, he felt his own magic push it away. The light blue strands smelled pleasantly of fresh mint.

"I can hold my breath for five minutes, you know. I'm not weak"

The naiad beneath him looked slightly shocked. _Did he think I was weak?_ Harry mused, flicking his eyes towards the prone figure beneath him. The lean body writhed beneath him and Harry let the nameless male twist out of his grasp.

"Hmm, maybe"

Harry let his eyes widen in mock alarm.

"I'm terribly wounded~ Me? Weak?!" Harry flexed his muscles and stalked over to the naiad, who was sitting cross-legged on the grass.

With a smirk, Harry ripped off his dripping shirt and tossed it onto the ground. He put his hands to his waist and grinned at the shocked male.

"'Name's Carion, you?"

The naiad shot a calculating glance his way before shifting slightly on the rock, positioning himself so that his webbed feet poked out on the side.

"Ryr"

Harry smiled and gestured at his pecs.

"Wanna wrestle?"

Ryr snorted in derision, "Want to be beaten?"

Harry grinned.

"I'm up to the challenge"

* * *

A few hours later, Harry and Ryr lay panting on the ground, the water swirling around their feet.

Both sported scratches and bruises dotted their bodies, their breathing was ragged and Harry had a particularly large scratch on his tail.

He had told Ryr that it was unfair, but the naiad just snorted at him and told him that he shouldn't have useless appendages if he couldn't use them. Harry defended his tail and told Ryr that thanks to him, he'd have a bite mark scar on his tail forever.

"Serves you right, waving your tail in the water like that. You're lucky I wasn't Maisie"

"Maisie?" Harry asked.

"The giant squid that lives in the lake, he's quite friendly, to me, that is"

Harry's eyes bugged out.

"The giant squid's name is _Maisie?_" Harry burst out into peals of laughter.

"Gee Carion, it's not _that _funny"

"Yes it is! Imagine, the fearsome 200 yard long squid, whose species has been known to drag sailors beneath the sea, MAISIE!"

Ryr rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

"It's getting quite late you know"

Harry laughter grounded to a halt.

"What!?"

"I think it's almost one in the morning" Strangely, the naiad sounded worried too.

Harry looked up at the sky, the moon still shone brightly and the owls still hooted eerily through the trees.

Harry could not think of a way to excuse himself without making himself suspicious.

"I- uh, I'm a student of Hogwarts- it's getting late"

Ryr, for some reason looked relieved but Harry put it down to the naiad wanting to sleep- rest... _whatever fish people did._

"Good bye, Carion"

Harry nodded and then grinned, "When can I visit?"

Ryr looked surprised for a moment.

"Whenever you come. I... can't move away from the Great Lake anyway."

Harry smiled at the naiad, who had turned onto his stomach like a fish, with his head propped up by his elbows.

"'Till next time, then"

With big loping strides Harry moved away from the bank or the lake, till he was hidden deeply among the trees. He stopped, then, and breathed deeply. He visualised his magic retreating back into his core and felt, dimly, his hair pushing back into his scalp, his nails and teeth retracting. Slowly, the slight pain stopped and Harry opened his eyes.

To a disturbing sight.

His tail was still there.

Still hanging absurdly from the back of his trousers.

Still making a nuisance of itself by unhelpfully thumping on Harry's legs.

Harry sighed and tried to imagine it retreating back into his body. Nothing happened. Harry gave up. All changes were supposed to be able to revert with a well performed push. If they didn't, well, Harry wasn't going to waste energy trying. For now, that is, he didn't particularly relish the idea of walking around school the next day with his tail swishing about.

With a jolt, Harry realised that he had _Potions _first thing tomorrow. With a groan, he facepalmed but then straightened.

Potions was the new professor, Bainbridge, wasn't it?

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Harry broke into a run, leaping over bushes and rocks as he made his way back to Gryffindor tower. Hissing the password to the nodding Fat Lady and creeping silently, he made his way to the boy's dorm. A loud crash sounded behind him and Harry's head whipped around in shock. His heart pounded wildly until he realised that his blasted tail had knocked over a vase.

Scowling, Harry muttered a quick _scourgify, _but because his wand was still unsuited for him, the shards of china shook on the floor while the flowers shredded into tiny pieces and the water spread on the carpet. With his slightly better hearing, he heard someone in the girl's dorms start to wake and his hastily pushed them to a side and ran quickly into the boy's dorms.

Once in there he headed quickly for his room. When he pushed the door open, he stopped and listened for uneven breathing, he turned towards Ron's bed and silently observed his friend. When he assured himself that Ron was asleep, he clambered into his own bed and pulled the sheets over him.

Just before the mists of dreamland took him away, Harry dimly realised that his shirt had probably been forgotten by the lakeside.

* * *

The Saviour woke to shrieking the next morning and covered his head with his pillow in annoyance. His late sleeping last night had caught up to him, leaving him bone tired and weary.

Faintly he heard Ron apologizing in the common room, apologizing for a broken vase.

When Harry next awoke, it was to Ron roughly prodding him awake.

"Waddish'it?" Harry asked groggily.

Ron's soncerned face appeared in his view.

"Where were you last night, mate? You were gone for so long"

"What do you mean? I only went out for a short walk"

"Harry, I heard you break that vase"

Harry mentally cursed his tail.

"Ron, I just- went outside so I could... _change"_

Ron's eyes cleared in understanding.

"Well, I told Hermione that I was the one who broke the vase and she's out for my neck. Scary woman that she is"

Harry chuckled and stretched his arms, his tail flicking his sheets off lazily.

Ron's eyes widened in alarm.

"Blimey, Harry! You forget something?" He gestured toward Harry's tail.

The Boy-Who-Lived shrugged his shoulders, "I couldn't get it to go away last night."

Ron looked worriedly at it, "Well, you're gonna have to _hide _it, Harry. People are already spreading rumours as to how you became- _you know_"

Harry nodded and Ron left the room but not before he reminded Harry that breakfast was in twenty minutes and that he'd better hurry the heck up, otherwise all the waffles would be gone.

Flinging his tired and battered body of his bed, he opened his trunk and grabbed a fresh shirt (the last one, he'd only had two after all) and pulled it on, then he grabbed his shoes, robe and tie (his trousers had been slept in).

After his robes were on, he grabbed his rebellious tail and tucked it into his belt.

Combing through his hair raggedly with his fingers, he threw a lopsided smile at the mirror and then left for the Great Hall.

Harry realised his mistake as he took his seat at the Gryffindor table. He was sitting uncomfortably on his tail, which was tucked into his belt _at the back. _He mentally scolded himself and reminded himself to change its position during a break between lessons.

Ron was already tucking into his waffles with great gusto. Harry took a bit of fruit and some waffles from a plate near Ginny. She giggled as he reached for the waffles and attempted to lean on his arm as she herself reach for a platter of strawberries.

Harry returned to his own plate a little ruffled. Ron shot a glare at his sister and continued to munch, while rolling his eyes.

_Girls, _He mouthed and Harry grinned with him.

* * *

Harry walked into the Potion's classroom with his tail feeling like a train had run over it multiple times. It throbbed painfully and Harry eyed his seat in disgust before sitting down.

His eyes watered as sitting down brought another onslaught of pain and he sat gingerly, squinting through the perpetual potions mist.

The chattering class hushed as the new Potion's Professor strode up to the front of the room. He cracked open a book on his desk and looked towards the class, chestnut hair ruffled by the quick walk to the front. Without much introduction, he began speaking.

"Now, who's heard of the potion of Lesser Restoration?"

As usual, Hermione's arm shot up in a flash.

By now the class was so used to it, they just let her speak.

"Yes, Miss...Granger" the professor said, after he consulted the parchment on his desk.

"It's a potion that heals and it can only be used when someone is on the brink of death. Drinking it will make you as healthy as you were an hour ago"

Professor Bainbridge nodded.

"Five points to Gryffindor. Yes, the potion will restore the person to how they were an hour ago. This is also the reason it is called the potion of _Lesser Restoration. _However, this obviously has its shortcomings as-?"

Bainbrdge looked around the room before his eyes landed on Harry.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks as everyone turned in their seats, he sat up straighter but winced when it brought more pain to his tortured tail.

"Because, uh, this potion would be of very little use if the person had been tortured for a very long time or if the person had been in a state of perpetual death for many hours"

"Very good, five points to Gryffindor" Honey brown eyes speckled with gold smiled his way.

The Gryffindor side of the room cheered, ten points in one lesson and in _Potions _no less.

The Slytherins eyed the other side of the room in annoyance.

"Pick up your books and turn to page eight"

Harry looked at the description of the potion in the book. It needed to be turquoise in colour, watery and taste like lemons.

Harry picked up a vial of what was supposed to be ogre's breath. Setting up his cauldron and turing on the fire, Harry read through the list of ingredients:

_Ogre's breath_

_Powdered Ashen Clover_

_Mugwort bulbs_

_Cerulean Newt eyes_

_Frozen Wishtear_

_Bicorn Hooves_

Harry read through the recipe and filled the cauldron with ogre's breath, stirring it until it simmered and then slowly adding the chopped Bicorn hooves.

Harry searched distractedly for the chopped hooves before realising that they were sitting there, on his desk. Completely whole.

He fought back the urge to curse and took the hooves and chopped them violently until they turned into messy cube shapes. By this time, the potion was very nearly boiling and Harry just chucked the whole lot of Bicorn hooves in.

The next time, Harry grew wiser and he read the method first. He crushed the newts eyes and sliced the Mugwort bulbs into thin slices, collecting the juices in a bowl. The Bicorn hooves finally dissolved and Harry added a frozen Wishtear, one by one, into the mix. A few minutes later, the violet mix turned orange and Harry pushed in the powdered ashen clover.

Hermione's potion was going fantastically well and Ron's wasn't too bad either, considering. Ron shot a look at Harry's cauldron and grinned.

"Not to shoddy, eh Harry?"

Harry grinned back at him and said, "Not sure how long the luck will hold"

A pop went off in the cauldron and Harry hastily stirred it counter-clockwise thirty times. He then added the bulb slices and stirred it clockwise, the mixture turned a dark blue. After it was brought to the boil, Harry poured in the Mugwort bulb juices and stirred it in, the potion finally turning turquoise. Though, when Harry looked at Hermione's cauldron, he realised his was a tad too dark and smelled more like oranges than lemons.

Soon after, the trio compared potions and Hermione's looked closest to the proper potion which Bainbridge had produced and placed on his desk.

Harry and Ron tied, Ron's being a tad too watery and smelling like lemon-lime drops.

Suddenly, Ron's face fell and Harry felt a warm breath on the back of his neck.

"Not too bad, not too bad. Could've done better, but it's a passing grade"

Harry grinned. He might pass potions without the help of a Half-Blood Prince's notebook after all.

Hermione looked like she had been given the best present of her life. "You guys- made a _potion_!"

Ron and Harry chuckled and they packed their bags for the next lesson. Harry withdrew his parchment from the proper compartment and then looked down at his timetable. DADA time! Harry's spirit's soared, his favourite subject. He then looked at the name of the Professor next to it and his spirits sank.

Oh yeah

Snape

He groaned and ran his potion stained fingers in his hair. As Harry heard a sizzling sound, he yelped and ran his fingers under water.

As they cleaned up the benches though, Harry couldn't help but feel concern for his professor. After all, Snape had saved him multiple times and Harry had seen his memories during the war.

...He probably wouldn't like any of Snape's classes, though.

He couldn't truly bring himself to hate Snape with as much fervour as he had when he was younger, in fact, he found himself a little excited.

_You could maybe even say that Harry had grown up._

The towel fell from his grasp and the extra-strength cleaning potion inside it melted the top of his shoe and Harry cursed.

_Well, maybe._

* * *

Review! Well, about the voting, I've recently come up with a _much _better chapter to start the voting on- sorry. It'll be soon. Don't worry.

It'll be a scene were all candidates come together.

Well, this is exciting!

Cya-

Nekro Kitty.


	7. Much Ado About Nothing

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

p.s Hey, we've almost caught up to the chapters posted on Adult.F.F.N3T (lol)

* * *

As class was dismissed, Harry mumbled that he was staying back a moment to ask the Professor a question regarding his potion. His friends nodded and Ron glumly followed Hermione, his face already shadowed with the prospect of having a class with his worst nightmare.

Harry watched the duo as they disappeared from view. He turned around and began to walk for the door, but just as he put his hand on the doorknob, he felt a prickling on the tiny hairs of his neck.

He swung around quickly, years of people watching him with their prying eyes had cause Harry to master this _particular _skill. He was not wrong.

Professor Bainbridge was sitting on his chair, polished leather shoes resting on his mahogany desk. One eyebrow was raised, touching the fringe of his curls.

"I thought you had something to ask me, Mr. Potter"

Harry wanted to glare at the professor. Merlin, his tail was almost _dead_.

"I didn't, sir"

The chestnut haired man frowned, one finger running over the cover of one of the curriculums potions books.

"I specifically heard you tell Miss Granger that you had something to tell me"

Harry wanted to growl, he wanted to rage. He wanted to scream. His tail, still uncomfortably tucked into the back of his belt, throbbed painfully. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt and the more his mind blurred with pain. The cauldrons were starting to look like great big splotches on a messily painted canvas. Faintly. He could see Bainbridge lift his feet off his desk and get off his seat.

"Now listen-"

Before his professor could finish, Harry growled. Long and hard. It rumbled from the bottom of his throat and rolled off his tongue like the thunder in a roiling storm. Through his blurry eyes, he saw the tall figure take a hasty step back.

"Harry Pot-"

Harry didn't want to start a fight, he liked this professor, but the pain was starting to really get to him and his sight was all blurry and the only thing he could think about was that terrible, terrible pain in his backside. Harry just wanted to leave the room, find an empty classroom and put his tail in a more comfortable position. Unconsciously, his Scáth instincts took over his pain filled mind and as the growl grew louder, his magic flared out and wrapped itself around Harry's form.

Bainbridge took another step back and Harry took it as permission to leave. He grasped the door with his trembling hands and strode out of the classroom, leaving a gaping professor in the misty potions lab.

The door closed behind him with a snap and Harry glanced both ways. Seeing an empty classroom on the right, he barged in and closed the door.

He fumbled with the clasp of his belt and tugged it off, fingers shaking. He grabbed his tail and hissed in pain when touching it made his tail feel worse. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers all over his tail, feeling the bruises, he bit his lip, hard, as if to take away the pain. He gently pulled it closer for inspection and winced when he tried to flick it.

His short fur on the length of his tail was falling off in some places and when Harry softly prodded it, the quarter of tail nearest his butt was completely bruised.

He'd have to ask Madam Pomfrey for some bruise cream, providing that she didn't ask any questions, that is.

A small _crack! _Shattered the silence in the room and in a flash Harry pulled his robes over himself to hide his tail.

The door opened to reveal Professor Bainbridge.

* * *

Sebastian Bainbridge studied the student in front of him with his eyes slightly hooded.

"I specifically heard you tell Miss Granger that you had something to tell me"

Harry Potter didn't answer him, preferring to stand there, looking sullen. Sebastian quirked one eyebrow and took his feet of the desk.

He didn't like students who lied to their friends, he also didn't like students who made things up just so they could get away from their friends or try to miss their next class.

Sebastian got off his chair and stood a few yards in front of the school boy.

"Now listen-"

A sound similar to growling lions filled the air as Sebastian spoke and he took a step back, shocked. Potter was looking at him, but also not looking at him at the same time. Sebastian studied him and noticed that Potter's eyes looked kind of sightless and unseeing.

"Harry Pot-" He began, trying to install some sense into his student but was cut off by an growl that was growing louder by the second.

Sebastian ruffled his hair, what was he to do with this guy?

He moved to touch the boys shoulder with his hand.

The boy's growling reached a peak and torrents of magic rolled of the trembling shoulders.

Sebastian took a step back.

_By the gods. This magic._

The threads of magic twisted and writhed around the boy's body, swirling in blue and silver. It shimmered in the air and pulsed with light. The wild magic almost seemed to look at Sebastian, he could feel heavy invisible eyes pushing him down. Forcing double gravity onto his body, forcing him to submit. Sebastian wouldn't, he wouldn't submit, not to a schoolboy.

He took another step back.

The magic disappeared as soon as it had appeared, pressing itself back into the Saviour's body as the raven-haired boy opened the door and slammed it shut.

Sebastian was left, dazed, standing in the middle of his room, mind still clouded by the need to submit to the magic. To obey.

With a groan, he grabbed a book and hit himself with it. It proved effective and he felt the last vestiges of the magic begin to dissipate.

_Fearsome boy, _he thought, as he dabbed at his forehead with the corner of his sleeve.

He plopped down onto his chair, feeling exhausted, even though it was only time for the second lesson of the morning.

Second lesson.

He eyed the parchments on his desk and flipped through them all until he found the desired sheet.

The second lesson of the day was to be next door with the fifth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

Picking up the right potion book, he fixed his tie and swept out of the classroom. Without checking exactly _which _room he was meant to go teach in, he turned to the right and opened the door.

To…uh… quite a shocking sight.

Harry Potter was standing there.

The Boy-Who-Lived was holding his belt in one hand, his robes were pulled tightly against him but Sebastian could see that Potter's trousers were pooling around in his ankles a little.

The tan boy's eyes were wide with shock and Sebastian raked the figure with his eyes, only to notice the obvious lump in the front of Potter's robes.

Sebastian blushed a deep red. Stuttered something incomprehensible and shut the door.

"H-he...was he? D-do-doing _that?_"

He felt the heat suffuse his cheeks and placed his palms on each of side of his face.

"Oh my..."

Could his student have made the excuse so that he could...?

Sebastian shook his head, chestnut hair ruffling in all directions.

Best not to think about it.

Straightening up and turning on his heels, he walked purposely up to the room on the _other side _and walked in.

"Hello students, for those of you that have forgotten; I am Professor Bainbridge. Nice to meet you"

* * *

Harry watched his professor's eyes widen as he looked at the Boy-Who-Lived.

_What!? _Harry thought.

He had pulled his robes around him, so his tail shouldn't be seen, right?

As his professor looked downwards and blushed, Harry furrowed his brows and tried to see what his teacher was teaching.

_It's not like- oh...OH. OH SHIT._

Harry looked at himself in horror.

His trousers, which Harry had pulled down a bit so his tail would be less squished, fell around his ankles.

Ok, so maybe his teacher thought he'd been taking his pants off in class? That wasn't all that bad...

His gaze travelled upwards a bit and he sighed.

Yeah that was it.

That was what had his professor blushing like a school girl.

The big lump in the front of his robes.

The very big and very, very noticeable big lump.

Which, of course, was Harry's tail.

But Bainbridge wouldn't have known that, no, he wouldn't have known that it was Harry's numb tail, stuck in that _awkward _position because it was too painful to move it from the position Harry had held it in.

A quiet clicking sound was all that could be heard as the professor made a hasty exit.

In silence, Harry pulled his pants back on and looped his belt back in place. He gently pushed his tail into the belt so that it was resting against his left leg.

He was not going to think about this.

Hopefully, Professor Bainbridge would forget too.

Hopefully.

Harry huffed and a few strands of raven hair floated gently in the air for a moment before falling back down onto his tanned forehead.

* * *

"How nice of you... to _grace_ us with your... presence- Mr. Potter"

A familiar up-down-slow-fast drawl greeted Harry's ears as he shut the door behind him.

The whole class turned in their seats to stare at the latecomer. The Slytherins looked smug and leered at him. Draco, in particular, smirked at the latecomer and turned around to his friends, whispering something. His friends snickered. As Harry swept his eyes over the class to find Hermione and Ron, the girls in the class blushed.

"Uh..."

He brought his attention back to his professor and ignored the urge to grimace and sneer at the black-haired man. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and raked them all over Snape's figure. Familiar high-collared black robes, black leather shoes... not much else.

No obvious disfigurement.

No sallow skin in sight... other than the usual.

Overall, Snape couldn't have looked better.

"Sit _down, _Potter. Else you can stand there... the whole lesson"

Harry's Scáth bristled at the command but Harry went to his seat and sat down amicably, shooting a look of seeming self assurance at his friends.

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry in mixed sympathy and concern, but as Snape glided down to the front of the large room, the turned around and gave Snape their _full _attention, that is, while Ron fiddled with the corner of his textbook and tapped his foot on the floor.

The long haired man at the front of the room grimaced, like he was preparing for the end of the world. He breathed deeply, wrinkling his nose at the smell of _teenagers,_ opened his mouth and intoned, slowly, like he had millions of times in the past,

"If you don't _shut up, _there will be after class... _detentions _which I will be handing out like candy"

Students muttered under their breaths for a moment before shutting their mouths up tight and glaring at the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

All had, somewhere in their minds hoped that getting the position he had always wanted would put their testy professor into a better mood. Fat chance of that _now. _All sighed collectively as they opened their textbooks to the first page.

A sharp voice sliced through the air like butter,

"_Don't _get your bloody books out, I haven't asked you to"

The Golden trio furrowed their eyebrows and shot incredulous looks at each other.

_Umm... well, this is a change of pace._

The DADA professor rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, which, Harry calculated from the movement of Snape's lips, sounded a lot like this: "When I ask, they grumble and moan, when I ask them not to, they grumble and moan... there is something severely wrong with the children of this generation"

With that, he swept out of the room, walking down the hallway so fast that the students barely had times to hurriedly close their books and rush out of the swinging door.

"Gee" Ron muttered, "He could've at least given us a warning"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "When has Professor Snape _ever _been that way?"

"Never!" Harry shouted, thumping both on the back and dragging them after the flapping robes of the professor that was fast disappearing around the corner.

"You don't want to miss the first Defence lesson of the year do you?"

Ron nodded his head slowly and the trio ran to catch up with the rest of the class.

* * *

As they walked in, Snape thinned his lips but made no sound. They joined the rest on the ground, crossing their legs.

"Well, no doubt you children think that this is a lesson in which you brandish your wands and show off your prowess. If you _have any, _that is." Snape sneered.

The smirks on the Slytherins faces melted off as the words washed over them. Bristling, they shot slightly pissed of looks at their favourite teacher.

"Although I'm sure there may be those of you who _do _have skills" He shot a proud look at his favourite students and ignored the rest.

"The fact is that the rest of you are woefully unprepared, _stupefy!"_

The spell was blocked with a smoothly cast _protego._

"Well done, Malfoy"

Draco smirked and tossed his hair back, smoothly ignoring the glares that Harry was sending him.

Harry glared at the smooth neck, he wanted to grab the pale neck and...

And...

He didn't know what.

...What was it? The notion that had run through his head at a million miles per hour and left no trace but a faint longing for... something.

"Potter"

Harry was given no warning as he felt a thin fingered hand shove his head forward with a _snap!_

"Today I will be teaching you shielding spells, a mid level and a relatively high level spell. They are all variations on the base spell, _protego, _which Mr. Malfoy has perfectly performed for us.

Most shielding spells will be variations of the _protego_ spell as it has only one purpose, to protect. This is what we can mould to shape different shielding spells.

Today you will be learning the mid-level one and _hopefully-" _Snape said the word as if he thought anyone would be able to.

"-It will work. Pairs, now!"

Harry shuffled till he stood next to Neville, shoulders touching. Both looked at each other with familiar, weary faces.

"The word is: _acerprotego_. Begin!"

Harry withdrew his shiny new- and useless- wand in front of him. It trembled slightly in his hand.

_Can I trust you? _He thought, twirling the hawthorn wand with his long fingers and staring at the innocent-looking wood.

"Well, Neville. I sincerely hope I don't blast something off you" Harry joked.

"Same, Harry, same"

They both stood in the basic wand casting stance and nodded towards each other slightly.

A clearing of the throat caught their attentions.

"Both must switch every five minutes- one person will cast the colour charm... for those who have _forgotten..."_Snape paused and shot an accusatory look at the eighth years.

"- you must point your wand and articulate: _rubeo, _clearly. I you do somehow mispronounce such a simple utterance, you shall see yourself in he most unfortunate of consequences... this spell has a knack for causing your whole body to change _pigments"_

And with that, he clapped his hands and stood to a corner of the room, keeping his hawklike eyes on the students.

Harry and Neville shrugged, they had both cast the rubeo charm before.

"You first?"

Neville dipped his head, his posture indicating that he didn't really mind either way.

Harry gave a few experimental flicks of his wand and spoke clearly, "_rubeo"_

The crimson spark shot out of his wand hurtled towards Neville, whose shield still hadn't properly formed yet. Neville's eyes widened and his mouth moved quickly, chanting the spell faster as he tried to recast. The spark flew closer and closer to Neville, but just as it was a few inches from the brown haired boy's face it fizzled out.

"Gee. Didn't think it would be this bad" Harry snorted, whacking his wand against the palm of his hand.

Neville shot him an 'I'm used to it" kind of look. "I never get my spells right on the first go"

Harry shrugged and without warning, cast another _rubeo._

Neville didn't get the shield up in time and Harry's spell got him on the leg, which was- kind of where he had intended it to be (he had aimed for the head) and left a large red spot on his trouser leg.

They repeated the back and forth until on the tenth try Neville got the shield to work.

"Let's see..." Harry poked the glimmering shield. Nothing happened. He pushed a little harder and his whole finger went through, all the way through the knuckle.

"Heh? What's the use of a shield that can't block?"

"My, my, Potter. Aren't we eager to prove our knowledge?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Really, there was no use worrying about his ex-potions professor. He was just like he was before, maybe even better.

"No, sir"

Snape snorted in derision, "It's a _stealth_ shield, Potter. With a better caster the shield shouldn't have been able to be seen by anyone. However, it can only block magical attacks and not the physical- so do remember which shield is for which situation...

Now, let's see _you_ perform one, Mr. Potter"

Harry gritted his teeth and gripped his wand tightly. _Snape, you bastard!_

Pushing his baser nature to grab the man by the shoulders and throttle him down, he took a deep breath wiped his sweaty palm on the hem of his robes.

Not wavering, Harry took his stance. Neville nodded slightly and pointed it at his friend.

"_Rubeo_"

Harry tensed, "_acerprotego_!"

As the sparking spell shot towards Harry, the shimmering wards materialized around him and they floated between undetectable and solid, not perfectly cast. The colouring charm hit the fluctuating shield and stopped, sparked and then gave out a small '_poof' _sound and vanished.

"Was that your best? How deplorable" A sardonic voice sounded just next to Harry's ear. He didn't move from his position, standing with his feet parted and wand still at the ready.

_Goddamn-_

If there were any people in Hogwarts capable of pushing him into a blind rage it would be Snape and Malfoy. And they did it, alot. Though, now, Malfoy was a lot less obvious about it. Which was only natural as Harry was really his only ticket out of Azkaban. _Malfoy..._

The rustling of robes alerted him to a presence behind him just before a warm hand pressed into the small of his back. Harry stiffened and fought the urge to rip the hand from him. Another hand snaked from the side and held his wand hand by the wrist. The weight on his back disappeared only to move the arm that Harry had held rigidly by his side. The black clad arm manoeuvred the tall boy's arm until it was held in a position to defend his chest. At this time, with one hand holding The-Boy-Who-Lived's wand arm and the other holding his left arm, Snape's lean body was pressed firmly against the boy's back.

The hairs on Harry's neck prickled as the professor spoke, his breath puffing warmly near his ear.

"Now, you hold your wand like _this"_

The surprisingly strong hands of his professor pried Harry's fingers off his wand and fixed their grip, causing the flat planes of his professor to press further into his back.

Harry stood stiffly. The pressure wasn't uncomfortable, some might even say that it was nice... but.

His Scáth instincts told him that no one, _no one, _was allowed to control him. He was dominant. He could not be controlled. He wrestled with himself for a moment, but the pure outrage that filled his mind caused him to lose himself.

With an almost inhuman growl, he wrenched the hands off him and faced Snape. The professor had an unfamiliar tinge to his face and Harry bared his teeth at the potion's master. If the scent of his rage hadn't filled the air in that moment, he might have been able to sense the strange mood that filled the professor's aura.

A silence filled the room.

All students looked on, shocked. They took in the trembling form of the Saviour, who had obviously changed a lot during the holidays and the stiff form of Snape. The accusatory looks came back, as the whole room remembered that this was a new Harry. Everyone in the room, who had been appeased by Harry's seemingly normal attitude, now looked on in renewed suspicion.

The rumours that had stopped ever since walking into the class started up again. The students whispered to each other agitatedly, gesturing wildly at the threatening look on Harry's visage. The girls were split in half, some cowering from fear and others licking their lips at the dominance he was oozing.

* * *

Draco watched on, his friends stood stiffly in their positions, reacting to the dangerous atmosphere and the strong magics that flew around the room. Draco narrowed his eyes. He would not bend. He was dominant too. He was veela. Part of him whispered in his ear- _it wouldn't be so bad, _it said, _just submit. Then the pressure will go away, the pain will go away._

But the remains of Draco's pride wouldn't let him. So he stood, with both hands clenched to the side, knees locking so as to keep him standing.

* * *

Harry kept his eyes locked onto his professor. Snape didn't move, his ebony eyes cautiously looking from Harry's wand to his eyes.

A primal part of Harry roared, and he roared with it.

Everyone in the class recoiled, as if someone had thrown cold water over them. Some even fell to the ground, not unconscious, but in positions of seeming reverence.

Snape took as small step back and Harry shoved past him. With one hand, he pushed the door open and the nails holding the door to the frame popped out.

"Potter!"

Mind filled with wrath, Harry stalked down the corridor, not caring that someone was following him. His long legs carried him fast and far, and he was glad for it. Soon after, the person behind him began to run and Harry sped up.

"_Petrificus totalus!"_

Harry felt the body-bind hex hit him and he staggered, his magic snapping at the purple strands of magic that tried to keep him still. Their magics battled against each other and Harry managed to stumble towards the wall.

Ebony eyes and robes filled his vision as he struggled against the bind, his wand having been dropped onto the floor when he had been hit by the hex.

The arms which had guided his arms before, now restrained them and Harry tried to snap his teeth at the other man but was stopped as on hand covered his mouth.

"What is happening, Potter!?"

Harry gnashed his mental teeth as the professor looked at his face in concern. _Fat chance of that! Snape? __**Concerned, **__about the friggn Boy-Who-Lived-To-Torment-him!_

"Potter! I demand you tell me what's happening!"

This time, Harry _did _snarl. Demand? Snape demanded _him!? _With unknown strength his magic flared and obliterated the the magical binding ropes and he grabbed Snape by the shoulders and pushed _him _against the stone walls.

"Demand me what!?"

Snape's eyes were wide, with fear- and something else. Harry looked down at the lean man with glee.

Yes, this was right, this was how it was meant to be.

_He _was the dominant.

* * *

At the beginning, this chapter was killing me. It took me almost a week and a half to write! But then I got halfway through the Snape scene and then my stupid fingers that had refused to move for so long flew like the friggn wind!

XD That Snape scene left me itching to write more and I hope it makes you eager to read more! Please review!

p.s. I sincerely apologize for the dreadful cliffy I have left you guys with! But... my sadistic side is cheering me on! XD

AS always- REVIEW ( i love followers) but REVIEWS tell me what you think, so FEEDBACK is welcomed XD.

Starting from chapter 11, there will be a 'survey'/'poll'/'vote' on Harry's mates. So stay tuned! Votes are done by reviews. More details later.

NekroKitty


	8. Death By Toothpick

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

**_ALERT_: Well, here we are. The eighth chapter- one more update tomorrow for chapter 9, and then we'll have caught up with Adult.F.F.N3T.**

**After that, a new chapter will be released every Saturday in Australia ( at around 12 noon )**

* * *

Hogwarts was, in a few words; a huge, rambling, quite scary-looking castle, with a jumble of towers and battlements. Inside of this huge and imposing castle, lay intricate passageways and secret tunnels that no one had known about for a couple of hundreds of years.

The corridors were empty, with only the occasional late student and a few off-class professors. But except for them, Hogwarts was quiet. The morning sun shone through large, mosaic windows depicting the four founders, bringing welcome light into the otherwise cold corridors. In a particularly dark corner of one of the long and lightless passages, a tall and long legged boy pressed down onto a thin, black figure

Harry pressed down onto the dark haired professor beneath him, waiting for an answer.

"N-no"

Harry grinned, satisfied, and ran a finger down the pale man's cheek. Snape trembled under his touch and Harry's inner Scáth sank back, pleased.

Harry's finger trembled and stopped.

The cloud of instinctual feeling was lifting and Harry was left blinking in confusion. In shock he realised that his finger was still finishing its long path from the roots of Snape's hair to his chin, and then, under his chin and down his neck, till it reached the collar of Snape's robes. He stilled for a moment, watching Snape's eyes dilate.

Harry snatched his fingers back, like he had been stung and stared down at his ex-potion's professor, horrified. The muscles in his throat worked uselessly and he managed to mumble a meagre,

"I-I...sorry"

Without another word, Harry flung himself away from his professor. Cursing, he picked up his wand, straightened his robes and half-walked half-ran out of the corridor.

What had he just done?

* * *

"N-no"

The word was dragged out of him. Under normal circumstances, he would never have said it, but, this wasn't a normal situation.

Potter's demeanour had gone from pure anger to a sly smugness that Snape would have never thought able to grace the golden boy's features. Something sparked in the boy's eyes and the Saviour leaned forwards, so that his graceful fingertips touched the inky darkness of the older man's hair and trailed down the sharp cheekbones. Snape trembled softly, his body felt weak and unable to hold itself up and his hands shook. He struggled to hold himself upright with his elbows.

He watched with flickering eyes as Potter's lips curled in self-satisfaction, clearly pleased with himself. Snape's mental lips curled in response and something in the boys eyes flashed and the feather-light touches on his cheek stuttered for a moment, before continuing its slow movement down to the cleft of his chin and below. As the paralysing fingers touched the top of his collar, Snape stared into the strangely rimmed eyes of his student.

Something was wrong.

The hand on his collar shook and froze and then, slowly, they fell back to Potter's side. Green eyes widened and the lips opened to say something.

"I-I...sorry"

Snape wanted to do something, wanted to retort something along the lines of '_You should be', _or at least something that would quell the uneasiness welling up within him.

As The-Boy-Who-Lived moved quickly out of sight, Snape slumped back onto the cold wall. Something was very familiar about Potter, something that overstepped the bounds of familiarity that should be allowed between professor and student.

His breath became slightly panicked and his eyes clouded with panic as he sorted through his fumbling thoughts.

The boy's eyes

His _eyes_

Bright green corneas surrounded by a familiar pulsing gold.

A golden honey colour that he could never forget, that haunted some if his very worst nightmares.

A hoarse groan escaped his lips as he felt the pull of the memories, of the nightmares.

_Mussed brown hair entered Severus's sight and he stiffened._

"_Hey Sniv-"__, the boy began, with a challenging smile._

"_I _know, _Potter. Don't think you can boss me around anymore" he sneered._

"_Oh, you know, huh?" The hazel-eyed boy's mouth quirked to one side._

_Severus sneered, unsettled at the easiness that Potter displayed at having his friend exposed._

"_I do, Potter, want me to tell Dumbledore?"_

"_Do you have proof?"_

_He saw where this was going. Potter was going to challenge him to do something stupid- and he, because Severus hated James Potter, was probably going to do it. Severus narrowed his eyes. _

_James Potter smirked, "Have you ever wondered why the Shrieking Shack is called the most haunted house in England?"_

_Severus peered around the side of a large stone ruin, eyes following the four small shapes that walked briskly over the grassy knolls. He watched with increasing horror as three of them morphed and shrunk, until all that was left of them was a stag, a dog and a small rat that Severus had trouble seeing properly. One remained unchanged and he sneered. Lupin, the werewolf. The brown haired boy's pallor was dangerously pale and the two larger animagi stood protectively by the werewolf._

_A small object streaked towards the twisting and snapping branches of the Whomping Willow and Severus watched with disbelieving eyes as he realised that it was the smallest boy, Pettigrew, but as the rat disappeared among the roots of the tree, Severus's eyes widened. The Whomping Willow had stilled and stopped its thrashing, allowing the other boys to approach and disappear into what he assumed to be a secret passageway._

_Severus pulled himself from his crouch from behind the rock and dusted his robes off. Pulling his wand out of his robe-pocket, he crept out from behind and quickly made his way to the base of what he called, 'The miserly plant with violent tendencies'._

_The leaves above rustled and Severus scanned the area where Potter and his friends had disappeared into, looking desperately for a sign of a passageway beneath the gnarled roots of the tree._

_A knobbed branch swung towards him and Severus ducked, just in time to see a small wooden door hidden among the roots. He slipped into the small space and twisted the knob, granting him access to a small cramped tunnel._

_Bending down low, he shuffled along the dirt-ridden passageway._

_An inhumane screech, like the sound of nails on chalkboards, but louder, abruptly pierced the stale air. It echoed though the small space, causing Severus to fall to the ground in agony and clutch his ears with a vice-like grip. The shrill sound reverberated within his skull and made his teeth ache dully. In what seemed like minutes rather than seconds, the dreadful screeching faded away and Severus slowly removed his hands from his bruising ears._

_It had to be Lupin, going through the transformation._

_Despite the sudden apprehension that gripped him, he pulled himself to his feet._

_All that he had to do was, see Lupin with his own eyes, and then show Dumbledore the memory with the pensieve and then convince the white-haired grandpa that Lupin was a threat to the school and therefore, should be expelled._

_Calming his fears, he once again crept along the dirt floor. _

_He could see the small trapdoor up ahead now, it looked innocent, a small smudge of ochre among an endless brown. He shuffled closer to it and reaching out a thin hand, which was already beginning to show the effect of dozens of potions on the fingertips, he hooked one finger into the latch and pulled it open. _

_Through the small crack, sounds of frivolous 'playing around' could be heard, and seen. The large werewolf rolled lazily on the ground while a large black dog jumped on top and slobbered all over the light fur of the __W__ere's stomach and a small rat ran around the haunches of the wolf, causing the creature to let out loud huffing sounds._

_Severus crinkled his nose in distaste._

_A pronged reindeer trotted lightly to where the other two were rolling around and pressed it's two front hooves lightly on wolf, only to have the dog jump on its back and stay there, as if a jockey riding a horse._

_Severus snorted._

_In a flash, all eyes in the room trained in on the source._

_The stag's eyes widened and its ears pricked up. Its eyes seemed to say 'You didn't really-"_

_But before anyone could react, the once-docile werewolf leapt from its haunches and snarled at Severus. Its eyes were wide with blood thirst and its sharp nails gouged the floorboards. Alarmed barking could be heard but the __W__ere continued bare its teeth at the frightened boy below it._

_Severus froze with horror._

_Thick drool hung from the creature__'__s maw and dripped onto his face, its crazed eyes were locked onto his, watching, waiting. Severus tried to take a step back but all he could accomplish was falling down onto his knees._

_No, he could not have imagined this._

_Couldn't have imagined what would've happened once a __W__ere could smell a human._

_Wouldn't have expected _Lupin, _to be like this_

_With small gasps escaping from the corner of his mouth, Severus realised with horror that all along he had been expecting Lupin, an out of control Lupin, but still Lupin. The terrible, snarling beast in front of him was not Lupin in any sense; it was the werewolf, incensed by the smell of a human._

_This beast had no qualms about ripping his throat out, no qualms with letting his blood flow freely over the ground, seeping into the dirt._

_With no warning, the werewolf disappeared from its place behind the trapdoor. Severus froze, the eerie silence from the other room was deafening. It penetrated his mind. Turning his limbs into what seemed like heavy, lifeless logs. With trepidation, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the __empty silence._

_Suddenly feeling a sliver of pain on his right arm, Severus opened his eyes in horror. A huge gash in his arm had suddenly appeared, causing scarlet fluid to pour out. With a cry, he sprang back, realising that the wolf had positioned its front limb into the small trapdoor, clawing with wild abandon at anything within its reach._

_The slashing paw was removed and once again the werewolf placed a huge, watery eye in front of the entrance, taking in the sight of its prey._

_Severus froze yet again, the bright golden colour seared into his brain._

_Suddenly, the wolf yowled and Severus watched as it was hurled out of the way by a stag and a dog. _

_Fast hoof beats rapped against the floorboards and Severus watched in detached amazement at the change from animal to boy, his mind still filled horror._

"_Out, Snivellus"_

Snape slammed back into his mortal shell, doubling over. The particular memory made him want to heave. With his breath rasping in his throat, he pushed his back off the wall and stumbled, legs too weak to support his weight. With images of gnashing teeth and writhing fur running rampant through his mind, Snape gritted his teeth and stilled his trembling legs.

Taking a deep breath, he resumed his regular posture and swept through the corridor, eyes set on the path to Dumbledore's office.

Potter was a werewolf.

* * *

Snape rounded the corner and nearly pounced on the sight of the large gargoyle doors. He stepped up to the stone door and glared stonily at the equally stony statue of a griffin.

"Peppermint toothpicks" he snapped and ran a potions stained hand through his once-again greasy hair.

The gargoyle groaned to life, twisting to the side to grant Snape access. Stepping gingerly through the doorway he was greeted with the perfunctory: "Severus?"

"Headmaster"

The wizened wizard, still brimming with life-energy smiled and gestured towards the traditionally preferred chair.

Snape swept aside his robes and lowered himself into the particularly hard, wooden chair. Declining the ritual lemon drops and tea, Snape locked eyes with Dumbledore and the older wizard put his teaspoon down.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

* * *

Harry spent the whole History of Magic ignoring the snores from the rest of the class and thinking about the horrendous happenings of his first day back at Hogwarts.

Two professors

One morning

He groaned aloud and Hermione shot a curious glance at him, Professor Binn coughed politely and Harry settled down into his seat.

But as Binn started to gesture animatedly about the first magical colony in ancient Europe, Harry fell face forward onto his desk and groaned.

_Bloody hell_

He groaned even louder and thumped the table with his fist.

How was he going to live this down?

And what the fuck were his professors' going to do about it?

Knowing Snape, Harry surmised that the tetchy older man would probably prefer being held under a _cruciatus_ curse than publicly admit to his students that he'd been manhandled by his student and unable to do anything about it.

Bainbridge however, was a whole other type of fish.

Moaning louder, he lifted his head up to see the whole class staring at him, only to slam his head back onto the table.

Harry's friends shifted in their seats and looked worriedly at him while the previously slumbering Slytherins woke and jeered at the new and improved 'Boy Freak'.

Harry glared at them and they shushed, though none of them would ever remember why they did.

Professor Binn shot a frosty glare at the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry buried his head in his arms and sighed. Deeply.

* * *

It was no better at the end of class, with one look at his parchment, Harry sighed_._

_Brilliant, History of Magic _and_ Divination in one day._

The trio packed their bags and the boys struggled to not yawn, while Hermione chattered excitedly about the magical warrior village that had existed way back when.

"Not only that, but they weren't completely human as well!"

"Amazing" Ron muttered, opening the door for his friends.

"Oh, look, here comes Professor McGonagall" Harry said quickly.

Hermione swiftly closed her mouth and greeted the transfiguration professor cheerily.

"Hello Hermione, nice to see the three of you out of trouble" The stern looking woman allowed a small smile.

"Don't know how long _that _will last" Ron joked.

Harry nodded solemnly. McGonagall raised an arched eyebrow.

"Well, it is almost time for your next class to be starting, move along then"

The trio nodded respectfully. Soon after, Hermione waved them goodbye and Harry and Ron walked towards the North tower, climbing the stairs reluctantly, one at a time.

When they got to the silver step ladder at the top of the stairs, Harry muttered "Ladies first". Ron scowled but nevertheless grabbed the first silver rung and pulled himself up. The circular trapdoor was already open and both let themselves in.

The classroom was still mostly empty when they arrived, save for a slightly smoky looking professor who fixed her eye on Harry as soon as she walked in. The two of them walked through the mass of unoccupied chintz chairs and pouffes that cluttered the room and sat down at the same small, circular table.

As more and more students poured in, Trelawney seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class.

"Hello, students- welcome to another year in Divination" Trelawney said mistily. The usual amount of beads, chains and bangles adorned upon her person in the firelight.

"Today, we will be looking at the art of predicting using tarot cards, and we will be for another half a semester. Now, see that small bowl on your table?" the professor glanced around the room with her huge glasses, blinking owlishly within her glasses, as if waiting for an answer.

No one did.

She continued on, unperturbed.

"Inside you will find a full set, now pick up the sheet of parchment and follow the steps with your partner"

Ron shrugged and picked up the parchment.

"Wonder what kind of bullshit were gonna have to make up this time?"

Harry nodded solemnly and waited as Ron shuffled the cards and placed them upon the table.

"Let's see: A hag, a flower, a knight and a blank card. Hmm..."

Harry looked sceptically at his friend. "What? An old grannie is going to bite me to death, a flower is going to trip me and consequently cause me to fall into a volcano, a knight will actually be a cold hearted murderer and stab me til death with a tooth pick or..."

They both leaned over the sheet of parchment and frowned.

"This sheet doesn't mention a blank card"

Harry shrugged.

"It's just another thing trying to kill me, I bet. Lets switch"

Ron and Harry jotted down his results and the red haired boy passed the tarot cards.

"Analyse the results of your activity and hand it in next Tuesday, no complaints!"

They both got up from their chair and twisted their necks side to side, getting rid of the cricks. Ron rolled his eyes, "Hey, Harry?"

"Mm?" Harry stretched his legs out, the strange new and lengthened limbs feeling excessively cramped in the small space under the table.

"Remember that time in fourth year?" Ron imitated the divination teacher's airy voice, "_I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born under Saturn's rule? As in mid-winter?"_

"_No, I was born in July"_

Harry laughed. "Oh, remember the wonky cross?"

Ron rolled his eyes good naturedly, "I know right, what the hell was up with that?"

They left quickly through the small round door and hurried down the steps. As they turned the corner to their fifth lesson of the day, they saw Hermione, who waved at them and pulled them inside their next classroom.

"Lunch is next, isn't it?"

"Yea"

"Thank Merlin" Ron groaned. "I'm hungry"

Harry fidgeted nervously in his seat. The rest of Hogwarts was loud, students and teachers chattering away. Ron asked Harry what was wrong but all he did was duck his head lower and avoid looking at the staff table. He heard a small clink of cutlery to his left and looked up to see Hermione put down her spoon.

"I never asked you Harry, but what happened with you and Snape?"

"Nothing" Harry lied quickly, averting his eyes.

Both his friends shared looks with each other. Harry sighed, "Guys, really-"

"Harry" Hermione said firmly.

"After you left in a huff, Professor Snape followed you, right? We all saw him, you can't deny it"

Harry nodded slowly.

"He left ten minutes before lunch bell and didn't come back to class"

"Yeah, Harry, old beak face never does that" Ron offered, mouth full of salmon sandwich.

"Ron, don't be so immature" Hermione cajoled.

Ron chose to ignore the indignant girl next to him and pressed the subject.

"Things kind of got out of control" he finally admitted.

His friends' eyes widened, "You didn't-?"

"NO!" Harry shouted, horrified.

The whole hall turned in their seats to look at the Saviour, many wondering idly about what form of entertainment was the Boy-Who-Lived going to provide them with. Many of the professors looked alarmed and tried to listen in, while not making it obvious.

Feeling the weight of the stares, he sat back down again and whispered, "If you're asking me if I got violent with my professor- then _no_"

Hermione elbowed Ron in the stomach and she apologized, "Sorry, Harry. We're just worried"

Harry sighed, to tell the truth, everything was just grating on his nerves. It didn't help that all the professors were looking at them now. Harry tried not to think about Bainbridge and Snape.

But as lunch meandered on, and Harry didn't feel the light prickling on his neck that meant someone was looking at him stop, he cast furtive glances around him. No one seemed to be staring...

With heavy foreboding, Harry shifted slowly in his seat, the movement was jerky and felt robotic as he craned his head towards...

_Bad idea._

Harry, in a horrified state of shock, felt his eyes widened imperceptibly, but at the same time, felt his mouth drop open in a very, very obvious (and convincing) imitation of a goldfish.

Much, much faster than he had turned to them, he whipped away from the sight of the staff table.

That had been a horrible, horrible idea.

Both professors had had their eyes locked onto his as soon as he swivelled around, and had both taken to burning holes into him with their eyes.

"Harry?" came a tentative voice from his left.

"Hmm?"

Hermione cast a quick look at where Harry had turned away from seconds before. "They're staring-_gaping_ at you. Professor Snape and Professor Bainbridge... that reminds me Harry, you stayed behind after Potions with Bainbridge too didn't you?" Hermione fixed an eye onto Harry.

"Uh-that is-I..." Harry's voice fell to below a whisper.

"What? I can't hear you, mate" Ron said loudly.

"...my tail...bruised... painful"

Ron and Hermione choked on their pumpkin juice.

"Seriously? Your _first _day with a tail and you've managed to abuse it?" Ron guffawed. Hermione shot a dirty look at him but pressed on nevertheless.

"What did you do so that our Potions professor looks like he's ready to suicide at any moment?"

Harry shrugged, but then conceded as his friends glared at him, knowing full well that they wouldn't stop pestering him until he told.

"_Think, _guys... I had to reach within my robes, have my trousers half pulled down and belt off- not to mention an incredibly pained and stiff tail..."

Ron's face cleared and his face reddened. Unable to stop a small huff from escaping his throat, he leaned forward and said confidingly to Harry, "So, Harry Potter, first day of lessons and you've already been caught by our newest potions professor- _wanking!_" Ron shrieked the last part, as his face became redder and redder, till his eyes teared up and he exploded with laughter.

Hermione was slower to catch on, but when she heard Ron's lousy attempt at speaking softly, she blushed a deep red and stuttered a bit before she gulped down some more juice.

"Harry- what are you going to do?" she said, ignoring Ron's barking laughter as he thumped the table with his fist.

Harry looked at her grimly, "Hope they forget about it" he said- trying to ignore Ron's expletive shout of "Fat chance!"

Harry just shoved another mouthful of ham sandwich down his throat.

_This wasn't going to be an _interesting (god forbid) _year, it was going to be torturous._

Idly, Harry wondered which professor would be likely to give him detention first.

* * *

As always REVIEW!

Also, after two more chapters of stuff not necessarily interesting, ive got a whole story arc that starts with- oops can't tell you that!

All I can say is that for once I've planned ahead alot and some_ interesting_ things will happen!


	9. Hypocritical Portrait

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the lovely: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the egotistical: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

ALERT: This is the last daily update! The next time this will be updated is this Saturday, approx noon, (EST time).

Have a nice week peoples! Oh, and thank you SO much, the people who've reviewed!

**KrossRaven**

**1xlottiex1**

**AcadianProud**

**SuaveAsphyxiation: btw, this have been formatted to 'look nice' on Adult.F.F.N3t. :P**

* * *

Sebastian Bainbridge sat stiffly in the Great Hall at lunch.

With an emotion he couldn't express- aversion? Embarrassment? Awe? He watched as the boy he had caught- doing _that- _walk with big strides into the room. Feeling extremely awkward, he picked up his goblet of water carefully and downed it in one go.

To the left, another professor was doing the same.

~~~Snape~~~

Snape had fixed his eyes onto the Boy-Who-Lived as soon as he had set that first step inside. His thoughts, normally uncluttered, extremely categorized and neatly stored in boxes, were jumpy and flittering about in his head.

If what Dumbledore had said was true...

He quickly picked up his goblet and drank it all, ignoring the overly sweet flavour of the pumpkin juice.

As it clinked on the table, he noticed that another professor had slammed his drink down.

The young professor, a half Greek half British pureblood with fluffy brown hair that the girls adored from the first day.

Snape calmed the sneer that had threatened to take over his face and went back to staring idly at the boy.

There were the usual characteristics of a dominant: aura, power, leadership, stature- not to say that there were never short dominants, but they usually got a 'second puberty' to boost their height.

Snape couldn't stop the annoyed grimace that flittered across his features. Great, the Golden Boy became more _special._

The worst thing was, Snape wasn't allowed to do anything about it. If Potter got unnecessarily violent, he was only allowed to cast a mid level body bind charm and take him to Dumbledore.

He could almost envision the countless hours he could have spent ordering Potter to scrub the cauldrons...or rather, the whole duelling hall...

"Severus?"

Snape's eyebrows rose a little and he turned to the right a little, to face the musical voice of Professor Sinistra.

"Aurora"

The olive skinned woman lifted an eyebrow in turn.

"You and Sebastian there, you both seem to be deeply engrossed in something. In fact, I'd say it was the same thing"

Snape took a furtive glance at the chestnut-haired next to him. Bainbridge was indeed fixated on something. Curious, Snape followed the man's gaze.

It was a group of Gryffindors sitting at the far end of the House table. Snape frowned, there was really only one person that stood out, and that was Potter...

And that had been exactly where _he _had been looking

Snape narrowed his eyes. Why would the new Potion's professor be interested in The-Boy-Who-Lived? He'd thought that those who lived in Greece were rather distanced from the whole prophecy fixation.

(Author: Snape should really be thinking why _he_ wouldbe interested in the Boy-Who-Lived)

"Well, I don't dare to guess what Professor Bainbridge is gazing at- but I was looking at that vase over there. Rather... nice"

Sinistra gave him an odd look that seemed to say, 'There are no vases in the Great Hall..."

-But Snape was now concentrating on his dinner, finally picking up the fork which he hadn't touched since lunch began.

* * *

The rest of the week passed without great incident, unless you counted Seamus blowing up his eighth duelling partner with a badly aimed bat-boogie hex. Snape, who seemed to have gained new levels of vindictiveness after the episode with Harry, gave Seamus detention, and Seamus returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to wax the hall floors and walls many, many times because of Snape's eye for miniscule smudges on the walls.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood don't you?" said Ron to Harry, as they watched Hermione teaching Seamus the proper wand movement for the spell.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Ron, I already told you-"

"Yeah, yea" Ron waved him off, "whatever"

Harry frowned, he'd been feeling increasingly irritated the whole week like something had been niggling him at the back of his mind, unwilling to be forgotten but also unwilling to present itself to his mind's eye.

He scratched the back of his head.

"Look, me and 'Mione are going to go to Hogsmeade, are you coming?"

"Go" Harry said, dropping his arms to his side and looking slightly annoyed.

Seamus and Hermione looked up from where they were still practicing and looked anxiously at Harry.

He sighed, "Sorry guys, I-I'm fine, just don't feel like going"

"Sure, Harry" Hermione assured Harry, "You don't have to go"

At noon, Ron, Hermione and Seamus all left for Hogsmeade and Harry waved them off, feeling like he should have gone. Lead by professor McGonagall, the huge crowd left the school's front gate, prattling excitedly.

Harry shrunk back into the shadows, feeling better in the darkness.

Staring after the quickly disappearing backs of his friends, Harry never noticed the small shadow that curled up from the large darkness that resided under the large clock in the courtyard and wrapped itself around his foot.

He never knew what had caused him to feel strangely calm, but it had, and he slunk back to the Gryffindor dorms.

* * *

The winds were peaceful tonight and when Hermione and Ron came back, Harry couldn't hide the small niggling feeling. It was like... like needing something, not something big, like a hug or something...but not realising something. Like some small part of him in the back of his mind wanted to do something- realise something-find anything.

But what?

As he had done every night that week, Harry left on his clothes as the rest of Gryffindor tower went to sleep and silently crept out of the portrait hole. He pulled his invisibility cloak over him and walked silently through the eerily silent halls of the school.

As he came upon the bank of the lake, he saw Ryr staring at him.

Harry jolted in shock.

Shit. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shitshitshit!_

Harry fell a cold chill freeze his muscles, creeping up from his feet until it completely enveloped his limbs. Harry felt his face freeze into a mask of normalcy, while his heart hammered painfully in his chest.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

"Carion? Are you okay? You seem... off" warm brown eyes, flecked with gold peered into his and Harry fought back the urge to rip the naiad's eyes out.

He was playing with him. Ryr, the naiad in the lake that he had only met this week was making fun of him trying to make Harry feel safe, and then most likely sell him out to a reporter with enough cash to buy a mansion. To make Harry think that nothing was out of the norm.

Except, there was no malice in the clear, open face of the naiad. No tensing of the muscles- any outward sign that Ryr was tricking him.

But- ah, there it was the small widening of the eyes, the small intake of breath audible in the dark silence of the night.

Ryr had seen him

In his unchanged state

Ryr _knew_

_Ryr was shocked- awed maybe._

But Harry didn't want awed. He wanted ordinary friendship- not the usual wonder and admiration that the title of Boy-Who-Lived and Defeater-of-the-Bald-Guy seemed to encourage.

Harry felt his heart wrench painfully as he felt the unlikely friendship he had built over the past week be shredded to pieces.

Unknowingly, Harry put a hand on his chest, trying to grasp the pained beating.

Searing pain, in white hot pricks, stabbed into Harry's torso and streaked through him, making him dizzy. He looked down blurrily, in pain; only to see large, clawed hands: talons digging inch deep into his chest. He fell to his knees, more from the dizzying sense of relief that the pain.

"Carion!"

Harry heard wet splashes as the lightly green naiad rushed to his side, pulling Harry's arms until they rested on both shoulders.

"Carion, what happened?"

Ryr slapped Harry on both sides of his face.

"I-I'm fine"

Ryr looked down at his chest, frowning.

"Why did you do that?" He gestured at the large puncture wounds on Harry's chest.

"U-Uhm... I pressed to hard?" Harry blushed. _That sounded so stupid._

Ryr lightly whacked him on the back. "As if"

But he didn't press further; instead, he seemed to contemplate something before stepping back and scrutinizing the space around Harry.

"Carion..?"

Harry, still shaken and lightly bleeding, said "Yeah" before staggering a bit.

Ryr seemed to not notice.

"Was anything... following you?" he said slowly, his eyes flickering back and forth.

Harry, smelling his own blood, shook his head queasily.

Ryr shifted on his feet, "I could've sworn- never mind"

Harry's world spun dangerously.

Ryr's eyes widened as he dashed forward and caught Harry's weakening form with both arms. Gently, he sat him down and felt the bleeding gashes on his friend's chest. With barely a sound, he sat down on the edge of the lake and whistled. Harry struggled to keep his eyes open as the blood loss started to make him drowsy.

Without warning, a monstrous shadow fell over him and Harry was like a deer caught in the headlights.

Lake water cascaded off a gigantic tentacle, skin gleaming in the moonlight. The appendage swung down, missing Harry by an inch.

"Maisie!"

Harry lifted his head up weakly to see a very cross Ryr, which was kind of cute- but mostly scary. Ryr lifted his arms and ribbons of water rose from the lake, eel-like forms of water twisted themselves around the nearest slimy limb.

The humongous limbs of the giant squid -Maisie- stopped torpedoing around the air and fell limply back under the rippling waters of the Great Lake and Ryr climbed gently onto the remaining tentacle that poked out of the water, lying on the lakeside- next to Harry's wet hair (Maisie was a little enthusiastic in drenching him).

The tentacle withdrew from land and Harry watched in horror as his friend disappeared beneath the lake.

Ryr was a naiad, he reasoned with himself but a spasm wracked his torso as his bodily functions tried to clot the blood, to stop the bleeding.

_For Merlin's sake, _he thought, _the most useful skill a Scáth has the ability to inflict endlessly bleeding wounds on the foe... not themselves._

He shuddered as a cold hand fell upon his chest.

Even in his weakened state, his Scáth instincts screamed at him to remove that hand and push the other male onto the ground but he was physically too exhausted to do anything.

A moment later, the waters parted around a slippery limb and a pile of sweet smelling goop splattered onto the ground next to him.

A bit of it landed in his mouth and he spat it out, disgusted.

It smelled like lilies and daisies but tasted like absolute shite.

The still-wet naiad scolded the squid, "_Gently_" and then scooped up some of the deceivingly nice-smelling mixture and pressed it gently onto Harry's wounds.

* * *

Harry lay comfortably on the tall grass, his wounds had stopped bleeding and his blood was replenished with a kelp-like _thing _that he had eaten without complaint.

His mind refused to acknowledge the thought that _that _couldn't have been what Ryr had claimed it to be.

It had tasted like spices and carrots.

His mind wandered away but was brought back by a small tap on the shoulder.

"Carion?"

"Hmm?"

"Was there something troubling you?"

Harry froze, but then forced himself to relax. When he opened his mouth, he talked instead about another thing that he had meant to talk to Ryr about.

"This week... I've been feeling weird- every day"

"How?"

"'Dunno, just feels like something's missing"

Harry heard a small intake of breath before Ryr's face, with its curly kelp hair and pointed ears, hovered above his.

Harry looked up into the clear gaze and his breath froze in his lungs. The air seemed to press down on him as Ryr's eyes locked with his. Ryr seemed to be expecting something as he leaned forward and let his hair and breaths mix with the ebony creature beneath him.

Harry felt his breath whoosh out of him as his Scáth rose from the back of his mind, like a predator. His gaze darkened as he watched the face of the other. Ryr's lips opened lightly to breathe and Harry's eyes zeroed in on the soft pink flesh. He trembled under the combined weight of Ryr's gaze and his own arousal which shook him to the core. But he couldn't help it when his eyes returned for another look at the parted lips. He ripped his gaze away however, as thoughts of plundering those lips and that mouth drowned all other reasoning within him.

Harry only heard a small sigh as the naiad rolled away from him and settled into the soft grass.

"You should go"

* * *

As Harry fell into his bed and pulled his covers over himself, he realised with horror that he had basically transformed into a Scáth without any effort, without any of the pain, without warning.

What would happen?

What would happen now that Harry wasn't aware of the change? Couldn't feel it anymore?

Would he not know that he had changed and then would he walk into the class a monster with sharp claws and teeth?

Harry buried his head under his pillow, which muffled his groan.

He tried to settle his thoughts, to calm his heart beat and focus on the cool night breeze which flowed through the small crack in the window Harry had left open as soon as he had come into the Boy's dorms.

His crotch throbbed as he thought of his erotic late night encounter with the enticing naiad of Great Lake.

He thought of putting his hands in those wavy tresses and then pulling that head towards him, feeling the way those lips as they-

No

He couldn't go further.

* * *

Hermione and Ron pulled him out of the Gryffindor common room the next Saturday morning and plopped him down onto a chair.

Today, Harry had wisely tucked his tail to the side.

Before the tables filled with food, the morning owls flew across the room and dropped a small white envelope onto Harry's empty plate.

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_Your visit to the establishment of Gringotts is due to the morrow._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Kordsik Goldhand_

Harry hastily folded it up and tucked it into his robes before the dishes filled with toast. Hermione and Ron both looked at him curiously andHermione cleared her throat before gently asking Harry who it was from.

"My appointment at Gringotts is due tomorrow"

Their gazes didn't clear any but Hermione furrowed her brows as she struggled to rifle through the cryptic messages Harry had given her shortly after his first visit to Gringotts.

"Harry, if it's anything life threatening-"

Harry raised his hand and cut her off.

"It's just Scáth business"

Ron finished chewing his mouthful and looked worriedly at his best friend.

"Does the Headmaster know?"

Harry rolled the question around in his head. He hadn't told Dumbledore anything, but knowing him, he probably knew everything regarding Harry's 'official business'.

"Pretty sure he does" Harry shrugged.

Hermione looked a little more relieved at the thought and warned Harry that if he was lying, she'd cursed each and every one of his socks.

Ron paled and tried to calm his glaring girlfriend before things got too out of hand.

"I'm sure Harry knows what he's doing, right, Harry?" Ron looked between his girlfriend and his best mate.

"'Course I do!" Harry retorted, pushing his uneasiness to the back of his mind.

Hermione calmed slightly and reached for a slice of orange.

"You better come back without even a scratch on your head, Harry" she warned, before picking up a couple of grapefruit slices and placing them onto Ron's plate.

"Eat it" She said, as she saw the look of consternation on Ron's face.

* * *

Harry pulled together a respectable outfit rather hastily, a white under shirt, black waistcoat and black trousers before pulling on the dark green outer robes he had bought at Madam Malkin's for formal occasions.

It didn't particularly scream 'Heir of Two Noble Families' but according to Kreacher they had looked like what an heir might wear on extremely casual occasions.

With slight hesitation, Harry pulled on a tie and while no one was looking, plucked one of the smaller flowers from the fixed vase in the common room and tucked it into his top waistcoat pocket.

There, Kreacher would say it looked a little more like a casual meeting between business partners now.

He fixed his tie in the mirror and swept out of the common room, striding past many portraits that ooh-ed and aah-ed as Harry flashed what he tried to think of as his most charming smile. It worked, from what the female portraits were doing.

(Putting the back of their hands on their foreheads and swooning)

Harry saw a bony hand gesture to him from within one painting of a disgruntled flutist. Harry, curious, walked closer to see the sharp face of one Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Phineas" Harry said, dipping his head.

The portrait sniffed rather loudly and waited for Harry to straighten his body before Phineas's face cracked into a wide smile.

"Ehehehehe! Such a handsome heir"

Harry tried to smile, remembering exactly how Phineas had thought of him before he had inherited the Black family vaults.

The portrait rubbed his hands together excitedly, "You're getting the potion today, aren't you, my boy?"

Harry nodded and the man in the painting cackled, "The wizard who defeated You-Know-Who, my Heir! Oh this is good, this is great! That broad even dared suggesting that my line would die out! Ha-ha!"

Harry smiled wanly and watched with relief as the man waved goodbye and disappeared, presumably to visit one of his other portraits. The flutist who had been resting peacefully within his own painting waved a particularly foul hand movement at the disappearing back of Phineas Nigellus Black.

Harry shook his head and resumed his walk to the Great Hall.

As he walked in, the whole hall turned in their seats to look at him, open-mouthed, Harry ducked down to his table, grabbed two slices of toast and hurried back out, feeling the stares burning holes into his robes.

The whole hall erupted in sound.

_Merlin! Did you see what he was wearing? He looked so hot!_

_Damn, Potter's such a ladies' man. None left for us._

_Where do you think he was going?_

_I wish he had looked at me! Green suits him~_

_Oh, look. Pansy's fainted- and Romilda too._

The Gryffindor and Slytherin tables all had similar expressions of shock. Gryffindor because they had never seen Harry like that and Slytherin because they had never thought that the Saviour, already lifted to levels of hotness on par to Draco's, was now wearing formal robes (all Slytherins were partial to formal robes) and looking like a powerful pureblood heir (they were partial to power too, duh).

* * *

Harry all but ran out of the front gate, where he presented the guards with the permission slip he had gotten from Dumbledore that morning and as soon as he was out of the Hogwarts wards, he apparated to the closest apparition point possible.

Stopping just outside of the double doors of Gringotts, Harry straightened his ruffled robes and as he was just about to knock, the mahogany doors opened and a small face peered up at him.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded.

"Mr. Goldhand is waiting for you in his office"

The goblin set off at a fast trot and Harry tried to walk quickly, without looking like he was running and attempting to look graceful at the same time. Eventually, they came upon the large chamber that led to the Head Goblin's room and the small goblin that had lead Harry here bowed slightly and opened the door.

"Mr. Potter. You're early" The goblin raised a silvery eyebrow, "Well, it's a lot better than your father. Liked to be _fashionably _late for everything"

The goblin cast another look at the Heir of Potter and Black.

"Nicely done, the clothes"

Harry grinned and sat into the proffered chair.

Goldhand shuffled through his papers and handed Harry an official-looking document.

"Sign this"

Harry scanned his eyes over the parchment, wrinkling his brows, he enquired politely, "Why would I be in the need of medics?"

"Just sign it, Mr. Potter. It's all for your safety"

Harry picked up the goose feather quill from his right and dipped it into the ink. He scrawled his best Harry J. Potter, struggling to not blot the paper. The goblin raised an eyebrow at the signature. Without a word, he handed Harry the exact same parchment, with no signature.

When Harry asked why, Goldhand gestured at the air around Harry.

"What are you? _Not _the Heir of two powerful houses? Please, Mr. Potter. Have some tact"

Harry blushed and dipped the quill back into the pot. Slowly, and with what he hoped was gracefulness, he wrote, _H. J. Potter-Black._

The Head Goblin ran an appraising eye over Harry's handiwork.

"You, my friend, are in serious need of etiquette training"

When Harry made a move to snatch the paper back, the goblin added, "This is acceptable"

Harry acquiesced but clutched his quill a fraction tighter. _Merlin, this was embarrassing. _

Goldhand got up from his chair and Harry moved to do the same. They both exited the Head Goblin's office and Goldhand gestured to his apprentice. Moments later, the apprentice hurried back with a small vial and Goldhand waved him off.

"Igneous, helpful little fellow" the goblin commented, before sweeping out of the chamber, Harry followed.

* * *

"Where is this place?" Harry enquired, liking the cool darkness; as he had become prone to over the last couple of days. Shadows were nice, they wrapped around you and kept you cool, comfortably so.

"A cell"

"Why would there be a cell in Gringotts?"

"We used to be a prison before Azkaban was built. Some of these cells are still in use, but only for those individuals who have cursed themselves to inhabit inanimate objects. Dementors can't kiss those ones"

Harry nodded; vaults were rather like prison cells anyway.

Goldhand produced a small rusted bronze key and tinkled around with the slot, before the great doors opened with a groan. Without warning, he pulled Harry by the sleeve and dragged him to the back of the cavernous dungeon-like cell.

"Wha-" But he was cut off as the goblin thrust his hands and feet into manacles he hadn't noticed before.

"What are you doing?" Harry tested the chains with his magic. Unexpectedly, he found intricate spells woven within each other. They tasted of thousands of different auras, but the newest and strongest smelled like oranges and vanilla.

"What are these?"

Goldhand looked suspiciously at him. "What was the name of my apprentice?"

Harry struggled to remember and didn't question why Goldhand would need to ask him this question.

"Igneous"

Goldhand visibly relaxed.

"Chains that suppress Scáth magic"

"Why would I need them?"

The goblin didn't answer, except to levitate the small uncapped vial that was held aloft by some branch of unknown goblin magic.

"Open up"

Harry eyed the small crystal vial; its contents were a bright crimson and smelled like the finest wine in the world. The vial nudged his lips and Harry closed his eyes and took a breath- and of course Goldhand took the opportunity to tip the contents of the vial down Harry's throat.

The smooth liquid burned its way down Harry's oesophagus, his body tried to regurgitate that liquid, but it slipped down steadily.

Harry stared, wide eyed, at the goblin. Goldhand took a step back.

* * *

**Review**! Ahah~ this is the beginning of quite a long arc.

PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW AND AND FAVORITE ANDAND... *eats cookie.

You get the idea

Cya~

Nekro Kitty


	10. Rage and Calling

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the lovely: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the egotistical: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

* * *

This chapter was rewritten severely on the **21/03/13.** Sorry that that means a slower update.

* * *

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

Harry hadn't really wanted to take another bloody potion. Really, he hadn't.

But…since Sirius had been the Lord of Black before he had passed away (and the fact that none of his relatives wanted anything to do with him), somehow, Harry had ended up the Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black_. After_ he drank this potion (which would somehow change his genetic makeup so that he would have enough Black 'blood' within him to…impregnate others with) he would then stop being the 'Heir' and instead be the Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

Harry stared at the potion within the goblin's hands.

Due to some strange clause that Harry had discussed with Goldhand previously, (sometime before the train ride to Hogwarts, but after the first trip to Gringotts) Harry was unable to access any properties, funds or even the title of Lord Potter until he had turned twenty.

This clause was apparently made very recently, the goblin had said. For a certain playboy Potter. Harry had blushed at the apparent misdeeds of his father.

In front of him, the goblin lifted a wrinkly, ink-stained hand, and tipped the vial over Harry's parted lips.

The moment the potion hit his stomach, Harry felt his world flip. The bright light seemed to burst out from Harry's middle, spreading his whole body with sparks. It wasn't painful, but instead filled his arms, legs and torso with pleasant tingles.

He felt every change, every stretch. He felt the hairs on his head tug on his scalp, felt as his whole body stretched another centimetre, felt as his hair brushed his ears, curling around them.

But then that moment was over.

As the influx of potent blood magic flooded his senses, the predominant gene of the Scáth in the Black blood mixed with Harry's own blood.

Every single one of Harry's Scáth instincts rose up to full power and with no pain at all, his body fully transformed. His black hair turned silver and lengthened till it reached his knees, the colour of his skin changed, his teeth and nails lengthened until they were knives and claws.

As the potion continued to fizzle through his system, Harry felt his tail lengthen and the tuft of silver flame now burst into a veritable blaze. He yelped as his left shoulder flared in pain, as if it had been branded.

He twisted his head to see, right under the small insignia of Potter was now another insignia: a snake strangling a griffin.

Slowly, the sensations withdrew and without any feeling again, Harry's body returned to normal. The only thing left was the exhausted form of one H. J. Potter-Black.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. You have more control than I expected"

"Why did you... ask me... that question?" Harry said, hoarsely, his throat still feeling the burn.

"Well...many people will let their Scáth take over in moments of extreme distress."

Harry wanted to ask why that was so bad, but he found that he was way too tired to do anything. The potion, while not painful- was physically taxing.

"Scáth aren't very scrupulous with who they kill. Many have killed people dear to them in moments of pure rage. I'd rather not take my chances."

Harry nodded tiredly.

"Would you like to see yourself in the mirror?"

Goldhand lifted a small hand mirror and Harry looked blearily into the reflected image.

He didn't look much different, he decided. He was perhaps a little bit taller and his hair was maybe curlier on the ends- nowhere near the curliness of Sirius's hair. The biggest changes were to his Scáth, he could feel his creature more than ever now and he had no doubt that his Scáth magics were stronger; he had reinforced his blood with a family known for them after all. Had Sirius been Scáth?

Just as he was about to drift off, he realised belatedly that he was naked as the day he had been born.

* * *

Harry walked out of Gringotts a few hours later with basically the same clothes he had gone in with. Almost. Goldhand had apologized (with his nose still high up in the air) about the state of Harry's clothing and had gone to Madam Malkin's and replaced his shredded ones with new ones.

As Harry apparated just outside of the wards around Hogwarts, he stumbled as the wind had whipped ferociously and a small slip of paper had fallen out. He bent over and picked it up, curious to see what it was.

_Mr. Potter,_

_May I humbly suggest this place the next you go shopping?_

_**Belinda's Boutique for the Beatific**__ is a well known 'posh' store. It's suitable for your needs._

_Yours faithfully, _

_Goldhand_

Harry folded it and placed it back into his pocket. He'd have to remember to shop there, sometime soon.

* * *

As Harry neared the front gates, he spied Dumbledore, sitting there as if he sat there every day, chewing on a piece of grass. Dumbledore's silver hair jumped merrily in the wind and the blade of grass twitched madly as the Headmaster's beared jaw moved up and down.

Harry approached warily.

"Sir?"

"Ah! Harry, my boy. How was your day?"

Harry smiled at the silver-haired old man, "Well enough"

"That's good, that's good. Ah- here, Harry. This is yours"

-and with further ado, the Headmaster of Hogwarts put his hands behind his back and whistled, walking back towards his office.

Harry watched the blue-robed back of Dumbledore, amused. He looked down on the envelope, it was addressed to Harry J. Potter-Black. He lifted it to his nose and smelled vanilla, which was rather nice. Without much further thought, he slid his finger under the flap and the scent of oranges wafted up.

_Dear fellow creature_

_You are invited to the monthly courtship meeting next Sunday, noon till 5 o'clock. _

_Portkey enclosed. All creatures accepted._

_Weres and Vampires- please remember your pills._

Harry stared down at the piece of paper, confounded. What was this!? _A courtship meeting?_

"Pfft" Harry couldn't help it.

This was like- like wizard speed dating? Harry guffawed and was about to put it back in his pocket before realising there was more.

_p.s Failure to appear will result in rejection by the society at large._

Harry stared.

_Was that a threat?_

_They can't possibly reject me because I don't want to go-_

Harry's eyes widened as another line of writing appeared, as if it had been there all along.

_p.p.s There is a complimentary perfume within. Open when alone._

He shrugged and pushed open the gates, greeting the guards as he walked past. Harry strode quickly through the corridors, avoiding the areas with the most people. Eventually, he came upon the Room of Requirement. Whispering the his request three times, he wondered why anyone would put a complimentary perfume within- this 'meeting' seemed more and more 'snooty' as he went on.

The wooden door opened and Harry found himself in a comfortably lounge room, with a small fridge to the side and a few bookshelves here and there. He plopped down onto the couch and grinned in relish as he sank into the soft cushions. He pulled some of the fluffy chequered pillows towards him, lumping them together under his elbows to make a pseudo-armrest. He withdrew the letter from his pocket again, smelled the orange and vanilla and then emptied out its contents.

A small, silver fountain pen tumbled out and so did a small vial of perfume, with an elegant silver stop. Harry put the fountain pen back into his pocket, assuming that it would be the Portkey and that it would activate when it was time, in other words- next Sunday at noon.

But why would they only want him to open the perfume alone?

He took the small vial of perfume into his hands, turning it in the light. It was completely clear, with no impurities or flowers that many perfumes liked to contain. Harry struggled to unstop the bottle, finding it hard for his new-and-improved fingers. Eventually, the stopper was in his hands and Harry caught a whiff of the smell.

It was... enticing.

But what was it?

Harry leaned forward a bit, to get a better sample.

_It didn't really smell like anything_, he thought. It just smelled like something... good. God, it was addicting, though. Unable to help himself, he stuck the perfume right under his nose and inhaled.

His heart sped up and electricity seemed to shoot through his whole body. Nothing could stop the moan that escaped from between his lips. Nothing could stop him from stiffening within the tight confine of his trousers.

_What the hell was in that perfume?_

Harry groaned again as the smell floated around his mind, taunting him. Merlin, just what that smell incited within him. The feel of skin upon skin, the smell of arousal in the air, the sweet breaths that puffed into his mouth as they kiss-

_Fuck_

Harry was hard, very hard.

His body wouldn't listen to what he wanted it to do- which was to stop. He found himself pressing himself into the pillows, breath huffing lightly as the soft pillows rubbed against his clothed cock. He kept thrusting against the pillow- it fell so good. But it wasn't enough. With fumbling fingers he ripped off his trousers and stripped his underwear off. The smell was tantalizing, clouding his mind and pushing the limits of his libido. With a shaky gasp, his hands fell upon his throbbing erection. Breath gasping, he moved his hand. His rough hands felt heavenly and he stroked harder. With gentle fingers he pulled the foreskin down and rubbed the head of his cock, a small bead of pre-cum welled up and Harry rubbed it over his rock hard prick. The next time he pulled, the pre-cum smoothed the passage and his hands slid wetly along his erection. _Up, down, up down-_ he reached another hands down to fondle his balls, moulding the flesh beneath him, causing sparks of pure pleasure to shoot through him. Merlin, it felt so good. The smell that hung around his nostrils didn't help either, in fact, it encouraged him, causing him to think of thrusting his aching cock into a tight, hot channel-

Harry cried out, his orgasm exploded through him, pearly ropes of thick cum that spurted out and sprayed over the silky pillows.

He fell, exhausted, onto the soft pillows beneath him. The post-orgasmic bliss settled into his limbs and he snuggled into the softness.

_Oh, Merlin_

What was in that perfume? An aphrodisiac that works without even having to consume it? Why would they send something like that?

_But- that could wait till later..._

Harry fell asleep, encased in fluffy chequered pillows.

* * *

Harry awoke, much later. He sat up, only to find that there was dried come all over the pillows. He picked up his wand.

It felt so right, now. Nothing like before the potion. The woods thrummed beneath his hands and he twisted it in his grip, gazing at every vein and mark in the wood. He cast an experimental _tempus_. The spell worked like a dream, the time appearing in small silver numbers.

Harry's jaw dropped.

He hurriedly cast a cleaning charm and hurried out to the Great Hall, forgetting to cast it on himself beforehand.

* * *

"They're asking me to go to a 'monthly courtship meeting', it sounds ridiculous-"

"Are you going?" Ryr asked, arms out, tracing a constellation in the heavens.

Harry considered for a moment. There really wasn't any reason to not go, he mused, and there was that -delicious- smell to think about. Maybe there'd be more at the gathering. Harry scoffed inwardly, and what? Be hard the whole thing?

"Probably"

Harry heard a small intake of breath and turned.

"What?"

Something flickered in Ryr's eyes and he smiled, "Nothing. Alot of relatives go-"

"I can't" He added quickly, when he saw the look on Harry's face, "I have to stay in this lake all day, remember?"

Harry harrumphed in response.

"It'd be lonelier going by myself, AND I'd feel like an idiot, all by myself"

"As if, you'd be the first one grabbed"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"What? Tall, handsome, powerful, rich. Scáth, to boot"

Harry rolled his eyes, throwing his arms out into the tall blades of grass and the twigs, rocks, pebbles around him. The moon shone brightly in the sky, sending its luminescent rays to the earth. A small breeze rippled the surface of the lake and blew pleasant smells of fresh water over to the pair.

"Carion?"

"Mm?" Harry murmured sleepily, the wind felt so good.

"Come over here"

Harry obeyed, pushing himself up by the elbows and commando crawling to Ryr.

Ryr looked up at him, fingers playing with the long blades of grass. A light blush seemed to crawl up Ryr's skin the more Harry stared and Ryr turned his face to the side, flushed.

"You smell good tonight"

Harry choked back a laugh, "Really?" He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and sniffed it.

Ryr reached up with both arms and hooked them both around Harry's neck. The Saviour froze at the contact, not daring to move. Ryr put his nose to Harry's neck and sniffed. Harry shivered, and it wasn't from the cold.

"You smell like..." Ryr looked at him shyly, "sex"

Harry felt his eyebrows lift and his face flush with embarrassment.

"Really?"

Ryr unwrapped his arms from around Harry's neck, placing both on Harry's chest instead.

"Like wanking" He said frankly.

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment, his next statement coming out in barely a whisper, "You can smell that?"

"Oh yes, I can"

They both stayed like that for a moment, Harry poised above Ryr, the naiad's hands burning heatedly onto Harry's chest.

Something flickered between them then and Harry felt like Ryr was going to do something- but then the moment was gone.

"Time to go"

* * *

Harry moved silently through the shadows, it was now just past midnight and he had to make it back to Gryffindor Tower without being seen, by teachers or students. There was silence and only briefly was there sound- and that something sounded suspiciously like Mrs Norris coughing up a hairball.

Further along the path to the Gryffindor common room, Harry heard some loud shuffling from the shadowy areas where the tapestries were hung. Quickly, he hid behind a tapestry himself. There was no explaining to any teacher (especially Snape and Bainbridge) what Harry was doing out so late…

Snape would probably mean 100 points off Gryffindor

And Bainbridge… well, there was no need for this teacher to think Harry more of a hormonal teenager than he was sure he already seemed.

His heart thumped in his chest as he strained his ears for the sound of rustling robes or, god-forbid, the sound of Peeves drifting around the Hogwarts hallways.

Judging from the hshhhing sounds he could hear, there was obviously more than one person. Harry could also hear gasps, moans, the sound of clothing falling to the ground and some wet sounds that set the fine hairs on Harry's ears on edge.

Quickly, he heard more noises and his face flushed horribly as he realised who, where and _what _they were doing.

These were students (Harry didn't dare think of the alternative).

Deciding that a bunch of sexually active teenagers deciding to meet up halfway between their House towers were not much of a threat, he slipped out from under the silk tapestry of Sir Walters the Meek and tip-toed past the writhing mess-against –walls that was all that he could see (mostly).

He did not notice their friend, who had been on 'look out' duty.

Harry only heard briefly the rapid steps behind him before he felt hands push at the small of his back and a wand point on his neck before being pushed roughly into the wall. Harry cursed, he should have been more careful.

"Don't move!"

Harry rolled his eyes. What the heck could they do that _he _couldn't?

…Why was he still thinking like that? His Scáth was gone- wasn't it?

The stranger took that moment's hesitation and cast a full body bind hex, eyes flashing.

Harry arms and legs snapped together and his body went numb. _Damnit. _He had let him get past his defences.

The stranger- a big sixth year from Slytherin whom Harry recognised as Goyle's younger cousin, Harper, shoved Harry against the wall and yelled to his friends.

A moment later, four heads appeared around the corner, looking heated and flushed. One of the guys had his pants below his knees and both girls had parts of their shirt torn off.

"What!?"One of the guys asked irritably, flicking his hair over his shoulder.

"This guy saw..."

"So, what!?" One of the girls snapped, capturing Harper's gaze and then glaring at him.

"Well- I... you guys told me to keep watch"

"Yeah-" the other guy interjected, "- in case of a teacher or something. We don't want to have millions of points taken off just because of being out past curfew. I mean, this is just a student, Goyle. A threat would have been enough to shut him up_"_

Harper bristled but then his shoulders slumped, his expression full of forlornness.

Harry couldn't move from his position, but he was amused nonetheless. He figured that since he couldn't do anything- and they were unlikely to do anything- he might as well enjoy the show.

"What are you looking at!?" One of the girls stepped forward, pursed her lips and then backhanded Harry across the face viciously- it hurt. It seared his face and Harry felt his eyes water. _Bitch._

"Merlin's hairy balls- It's Harry Potter!" one of them yelped. Smart one.

The four other's eyes widened and they all took a step back- it wasn't long before they started a blazing blame game.

"Bloody hell, Goyle! If you had just left him alone. He wasn't going to tell!"

"Can't we just let him go?"

"Not after you just backhanded him, you-you broad!"

"Excuse me!?"

"Guys- stop it! This yelling is more likely to get us caught than Potter!"

"Stay out of it Clarissa- everyone knows you're a slut who'll do it for money"

"You- YOU BASTARD! Oh wait- does you're _Ravenclaw_ girlfriend know what you do with me after school hours?"

"You-"

Oh yes, Harry thought. This was quite interesting- but his face was still sore and he ached to hex them all until their ears and hair all fell out. Harry shook his head (in his mind), why was he feeling so... so bloodthirsty!? He felt like...he wanted to- to spread his claws, and run them over the soft flesh of their necks- hissing as their blood dripped to the cold hard floor... _they deserved it..._

"Just obliviate him"

Harry growled, low and deadly within his throat. No half-assed Slytherin was going to be messing about in his head tonight. He'd had enough of that from the bald, nose-less guy. He glared at them, with his eyes. Daring any one of them to perform the spell.

"Merlin, he looks feral'

"You sure that's Potter?" One of the girls asked, shuffling behind – what Harry assumed to be- her boyfriend. Or sex friend.

"Yeah-" The guy with light brown curls stepped forward and flicked Harry's hair aside.

Harry froze within his body-bind spell. How. Dare. He.

Something within Harry's coil of magic snapped and he could feel the bubbling resentment rise from his Scáth.

Without permission.

How. Dare. He.

"Look at that-" The boys eyes widened- and screamed, high pitched screaming that echoed unpleasantly within the corridors, causing his friends to clap their hands over their ears. Harry had grabbed the boys arm with his iron grip.

Harry grinned- the weak bonds of the body bind magic had snapped easily, letting Harry out with barely any resistance. He scoffed, _this was ridiculous_. The boy in front of him tried to pry his arm out of Harry's grasp, but Harry grinned and gripped harder, causing a pained cry from the boy in front of him.

"Bloody hell", came a terrified whisper of one of the girls, clutching her friend close.

Harry bared his teeth at her- and was disconcerted to find that his teeth were back in their full sharpness, hair stretched and claws digging into the boy's soft arm.

Harry forced himself to drop the boy's limb when rivulets of blood ran down the pale arm- he regretted it immediately.

The boy wrenched his hand back and without a second's hesitation pushed his friends out of the way and ran. With one look at Harry's terrifying form, his friends ran too, the girls clattered unsteadily in their shoes.

Harper stayed where he was, petrified.

Harry growled.

_Oh he knew what they were going to do- _

He narrowed his eyes

_They were going to tell- tell a professor about Harry's new 'condition'. They were gonna brand him as a freak-_

With a swish of his wand, Goyle's cousin fell to the ground.

Harry was off in a flash, silver hair trailing behind him like a sliver of moonlight in the darkness. He got to the last girl easily, she looked up at him with terrified eyes, baring her neck instinctively as Harry leaned over her. With a power he had not used before, Harry obliviated her with a mere thought and set off for the rest.

He followed the pale violet aura of the other girl, the one that had been foolish enough to backhand him. He snapped at the air, tasting the trail. She was in an empty classroom, he was sure of it. Grinning, he slunk down the empty corridor and panted lightly as he smelt the tinge of fear in the air. Silently, he opened the door and stalked his way down to the last table in the room.

"Come out, kitty" He whispered.

A terrified whimper rent the air and a spell hurtled towards him and Harry dodged it easily. The girl tried to scramble out from under the table, but Harry had already grabbed her with both his hands. She tried to kick and thrash within his grasp, but Harry leaned forward and thought, _obliviate, _before her eyes went blank and she slumped against the floor.

Harry picked her up and placed her out in the corridor.

He took off again, retracing his steps and then following the dual trails of yellow and green and as one branched out, he followed it. It shimmered, pale yellow among air and dust that billowed around him as he ran. Harry turned, and stopped.

The ash blond hair of the boy swished weakly against his sweaty forehead, which glistened in the moonlight. His wand was pointed at Harry and with barely a sound, a flash of red lightening shot towards Harry, who whispered his own counter curse almost at the exact instant the curse had been cast.

"Nice try" He whispered.

The boy pointed his wand again and Harry stepped to the side as the stunning spell shot past him. With less than a whisper, Harry moved in the shadows and tackled the boy to the floor. A bright flare blinded Harry and he tried to shy away from the bright light. The boy twisted out of his grasp and Harry lay there for a moment, rubbing his eyes.

_Bastard_

Harry growled and banged his fist against the wall, a small piece of stone fell away and he sprinted after the shimmering trail that had been left behind. Harry felt the last of his breath wheeze through his throat before stopping. Damn, he had forgotten that he was still mortal.

He sneered at the trial or aura, that bastard was still out there- looking for someone to dob him in to. Disregarding himself completely, he let his presence fade away from his mind and let the rush of exhilaration and stamina carry his legs around the maze-like halls of Hogwarts.

A small shuffling alerted Harry to the presence of his prey and he leapt, barely keeping his fangs in check.

_Obliviate_

Harry pushed his handiwork into a bigger open space and he doubled back, retracing his steps to the place where he had split off.

Oh, yes. This was the boy that had touched his scar. Without permission.

Harry licked his lips and dashed off, following only minute nuances in the air, even though the trail would've gone 'cold' for anyone-_anything_ else. Harry narrowed his eyes- the boy would have been able to get to a teacher by now. He must have. Harry felt his blood boil. It was highly unlikely that Harry would be able to obliviate a teacher without some meddling.

The dustier areas of Hogwarts faded away and Harry found himself in well-travelled passageways. He cursed, it might be too late.

He softened the sound of his running and likened it to the light fluttering of a moth. He quickly passed through well-used classroom corridors when he realised another, fainter aura began to converge with the one he was following. Harry didn't recognise the magical signature.

Suddenly he stopped.

The trails were no longer bright, but he could hear heavy breathing around the corner- the heavy breathing of two people. Harry wondered if he had somehow contacted a friend and gotten him to help gang up on Harry. He sat on his haunches and carefully sniffed the wispy auras- yes, they must have been waiting in ambush for a while now.

Harry held his wand at the ready and rounded the corner.

"Don't move!"

Harry quickly hid his expression of shock, choosing to freeze in his tracks.

"Drop your wand, or I'll do it!"

Harry dropped his wand and heard it clatter to the ground- his palms feeling strange without it.

The boy looked half-crazed, shivering as he kept his arm in a stranglehold around a small boy's neck.

Harry and his own Scáth instincts, recoiled at the display before him.

A submissive was being held like a ragdoll, swinging back and forth as the boy moved, wand pointed to the delicate skin at his neck. The boy tightened his hold as he saw Harry looking at the boy, snarling.

"You disgusting cretin" Harry spat, feeling the hereditary Scáth instinct to protect the weak boil in his blood. The same blood that had protected the small village from the Loch Ness monster many, many, millennia ago.

The boy lifted his wand off the boy's neck for a split second and fired off two successive spells wordlessly.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the show of power but dodged the spells easily.

He took a careful step forward, capturing the curly headed boy's eyes with his own. Somthing in the boys eyes flickered for a moment, but was gone in a flash and with horror, Harry watched as a deep purple light connected with the submissive's neck.

Without hesitation, Harry leapt. _No one_ was allowed to harm any submissive in such a way.

_This castle is unsafe_, his instincts screamed. His special ones were unsafe in this castle, unsafe while madmen like _this_ one could roam around. Where anyone could harm potential mates. _Submissive or not._

Harry screamed as his claws sunk into soft flesh, a scream of rage and calling.

The flesh pierced easily and Harry flung the body away from him in disgust.

Was the submissive okay?

The roar echoed thunderously through Hogwarts, and as the submissive beneath him fell unconscious, Harry felt the strength leave him and he blacked out too.

* * *

Hello readers! This chapter was rewritten/edited severely today, **21/03/2013.**

Of course, I hope this makes a lot more sense now…if it doesn't… *facedesks

Electronically signed,

Nekro Kitty


	11. Three Spoonfuls

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the lovely: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the egotistical: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

**Warning:** Time skips around a bit in this one. Just be aware that it is one scene but repeated with the different views of each character.

* * *

Inside a warmly lit room, with sparse furniture and many, many bookshelves, Snape felt the hairs on his neck prickle. Abruptly, he shut the tome he had been reading for a good few hours and picked up his wand.

What was this?

Snape stiffened as the sound echoed through the whole school, though he knew with a certainty that most would not be able to hear it. Hear the thrumming pulse that had surprised the DADA professor and make him weary, very weary.

He ground his teeth together-he was above this, had trained many years- he needn't go. Shouldn't go. Shouldn't follow the call that echoed through his bones and told him that he was in danger-

-that he needed to follow the sound-

Yes, if he followed the sound, he would be safe.

Snape picked up his book and whacked himself with it. With his head cleared, he sat down again.

He didn't need to go.

He wasn't in danger-

The sound grew in strength and Snape couldn't ignore its call any longer. Though he tried to stop his legs as they marched up the stairs and grabbed hold of the walls as he passed them- nothing could stop his legs from moving towards safety.

Snape scoffed.

What danger was there within Hogwarts?

But his legs kept moving and he was dragged towards the sound. An unwilling subject to his instincts- the fear that had crept silently through him as the sound reverberated around the school and the desperation that he had felt for a moment- desperation to follow the sound to safety, to someone who would protect him from harm.

* * *

Draco woke up in blind terror. His arms and legs thrashed around as he tried to get his covers off him and his face into the open air. The blankets seemed to constrict around him until he couldn't breathe and Draco slumped back into his soft bed. Slowly, the panic seemed to dim but it wouldn't go away. He finally got his head above the quilt and took a deep, shuddering breath- but it wouldn't fade away.

Draco knew what it was, though he himself had never done it. It was not the mating call of a submissive- it was dominants warning call, the type that commanded all who he _most compatible with_ within range to him, (assuming the people that were most compatible with him being people he cared for and cherished.)

Where ever he was.

_Who_ever he was.

Draco tried to shake off the feeling. It was probably just another stupid dominant who was overreacting to a- a shard of glass on the floor or something. He turned in his bed, pulled the velvet covers around himself and sunk his head into the marshmallow softness of his pillow

But even as he covered his ears and smothered himself with blankets, the call grew louder and louder, until Draco was filled with no thought but the sound, the terror

-and the need to be safe.

Draco felt as if he was pulled, thrown off his bed and tugged forward by his legs until somehow, he was shivering, with barely any clothes on and in front of the infirmary.

Draco heard the muted flapping of robes and he snapped his head round, heart thudding in his ears.

"Godfather"

The man only raised a slender eyebrow, lips thinned in its perpetual frown.

"Why are you... _here, _Draco?"

Draco only tilted his head minutely, "Same reason as you, I guess"

He noticed in passing that Severus's pallor was pale and his hands were lightly shaking- not unlike his own. Severus saw his gaze anyway and swept his hands behind his robes.

"I'd hope not, Draco. Or we are headed... for some very woe begotten times _indeed_"

* * *

Colin had been sleeping soundly within his sheets.

The first thrum of sound hit him and waves of terror flooded his sleep hazed mind. With no thought of opposing the call, he dashed down to his brother's dorm.

He slipped in and joined eyes with Dennis, who was propped up by his elbows, eyes wide.

With no words, Colin grabbed his brother and they stumbled out of Gryffindor tower. Breath puffing out in short gasps they followed the sound to warmth and security.

Sebastian felt his blood freeze in his veins. The warm water that submerged him felt colder somehow- less inviting than it had been seconds ago. The suds swirled around him, the action so ordinary it conflicted with the state of his mind.

He knew the sound well.

Many of his cousins in Greece had displayed this behaviour after their inheritances at fifteen, he'd almost gotten used to it.

It was a skill that all Dominant creatures were given, none without.

The call, once the wall of unquestionable fear had been surpassed- was actually quite pleasant. It promised safety, home and protection.

Seeing no reason why he shouldn't go, he pulled himself out of the bathtub and slid the thick bathrobes around himself.

He ran, following the instinct to find the emitter of the sound.

Nothing was ever easy- especially when he saw who he'd have to deal with.

* * *

The boy woke up with a heavy body over his chest and arms. The weight was stifling.

His mind filled with panic- where was he? He'd been going out for a walk when-

The person on top of him groaned and the boy, Nathaniel, struggled ineffectually against the superior weight. He craned his neck and caught sight of a dark mane and long limbs before his neck (which was long and slim) flopped back onto the hard ground. He winced and tried to bring his arm up but the heavy mass groaned and the sound went straight to his brain, calming his nerves.

His muscles loosened he found himself snuggling under the person's body, seeking warmth- which was scarce on the stone ground- and wrapping his arms around the heat-emitting body above him.

Just as he was drifting off, he realized that the body on top of him was Harry Potter- and he had had a wand pointed at his throat because of it- _and _this person had been a terrible snarling monster- but no matter, his sleepy mind thought, someone this warm and snuggly couldn't be evil-

-and light snores filled the corridor.

* * *

Moments later, light, erratically rhythmic steps tapped the stone floor. A familiar feather-like voice remarked, rather unsurprised,

"Ah, I see young Harry here has gotten himself into a pinch… is this Nathaniel? I do hope his mother won't come calling again- I should have put as many sugar cubes in her tea as possible, might have made her sweeter."

The old man with blue sparkly robes secreted a lemon drop from somewhere within his robes and popped it into his mouth, all the while waving his wand lazily.

"Funnily enough, the tea didn't work… although I rather think it was Fawkes screeching that put her off, he'd never done that before- not that it shortened her hour-long visit"

He exited the scene rather quickly, whistling tunelessly, with his wand held out- as to keep both levitating boys in the air…

If at any point Dumbledore noticed that his spell caused both boys to slide around a bit midair, he didn't say anything, nor did he react when one of them hugged the other tightly in their sleep in an attempt to keep still.

He stopped in front of the infirmary and rapped lightly on the door.

Poppy answered, sleep fogging her eyes, it cleared quickly, as she saw the gashes on the smaller boy's throat.

"Albus!" She huffed crossly before ushering him in. She pointed to two unoccupied beds and Dumbledore lowered them lightly onto one.

Poppy tutted as she tried to pry their arms off each other, eventually resorting to a separating charm after she veritably tried to rip them apart.

Dumbledore watched all with a smile, and when Poppy raised an eyebrow questioningly, he smiled and said, "Expect visitors- and if they get to rowdy, don't hesitate to firecall me"

Poppy nodded hesitatingly as she pulled blankets over both of them, tucking the sheets under their chins and pushing their limbs back onto the bed.

"No funny business" She warned Dumbledore as he took his leave.

The door closed without so much as a whisper and she took a cleaning slave and began applying it to Nathaniel's neck, which had several shallow gashes on it. She then applied it on Harry's chest also, when she noticed wounds that looked like they had been inflicted by a large animal.

Tutting louder, she changed their clothes.

Only to hear loud banging on her door.

She hurried to the door after fastening their infirmary gowns to them, grabbing the knob, she opened the door.

She sighed.

This was probably what Albus had meant when he said 'expect visitors'

* * *

As all males came upon each other in the hallway they all stared at each other in confounded shock and confusion.

Draco because he couldn't believe the dominant within the infirmary could call so many to him at once, and because he couldn't believe that he'd managed to call a dominant- and two _teachers_. Draco could well look after himself, _thankyouverymuch_.

* * *

Snape was looking upon the situation in distaste, he couldn't bloody well obliviate this many people without consequences, nor was he inclined to obliviate his godson despite the annoying prat he could be.

That wasn't all that rankled him, however.

What rankled him was- Bainbridge.

Snape narrowed his eyes. Bainbridge _had _been staring at Harry the other day... so had _he_ for that matter- but he'd had his reasons.

Suspicious.

But then so was Severus Snape himself.

He didn't even know why he'd been called here. In no way did he consider himself _close, or godforbid, __**compatible**_to Potter at all- thus rendering the set-in-stone rule that dominant calls should be used for.

He pursed his lips and scowled upon the two small Gryffindor's that had their arms around each other and eyes as wide as goldfish.

* * *

Sebastian felt Snape's eyes on him and did his best not to shuffle. Inside, he was puzzled as to why a man as cold as him was here.

Snape was most known for his biting remarks and unrestrained detentions- not for needing protection.

Whoever it was inside the infirmary- must've been deluded, Snape was dominant, wasn't he?

* * *

Colin felt his brother shrink a bit and he hugged tighter, his gaze flickered about the hall, lingering on his professors before landing on the aristocratic face of Draco Malfoy. The boy sneered at him and Colin felt his blood rise to his cheeks.

Colin lifted his chin up and tugged on his brothers arms. Dennis and he moved as one to the pale blue door. He swept his eyes over the men in the corridor; each unwilling to move from their places.

With shaking hands, he knocked on the door.

Seconds later, an aging witch with silver hair and a simple red and white nurses uniform cast her eye at the men in the corridor and sighed.

"Well, do come in"

* * *

Snape hesitated.

There was no need to really go in for sure. The young dominant in there would not want _him _to be safe.

Definitely not _Snape. _

The ebony haired man stopped his foot in its tracks and swept aside his robes, preparing to make an exit. A pale hand on his arm stopped him. Snape looked with expressionless eyes at his godson. Draco looked at him piercingly, silver eyes flickering a silent message between the two.

"How much longer, Severus?"

Snape hated the way Draco's eyes tried to pry into his mind. With a rough tug, he removed his wrist from his godson's grasp and turned slowly, to face the opened door.

Draco moved with smooth steps, walking into the door. Snape waited for a moment, only to hear the steady steps of his godson to falter and then stop.

Snape stepped quickly into the room, only to smell the scent of the dominant and narrow his eyes.

_Potter._

Draco evidently thought the same, his silver eyes wide and filled with horror.

But as soon as they had entered the room, the pressure had started to force them down. Two small forms and a large one knelt by the bedside, heads bowed low.

Even Snape felt his iron wall crumbling, felt years and years of training fall away. He kept his knees locked together, however, and kept standing, hands clenched by his sides.

* * *

(Scáth Harry)

He awoke groggily, still sleepy and unresponsive. The sheets around him were warm and the bed, though thin was comfortable and Harry wanted no more than to shut his eyes and fall asleep.

_Where were they?_

His eyes snapped open and he looked around him in horror- that monster could not have gotten to them already-

_Safe. _His mind whispered.

He wrapped a strand of magic over each of them, testing them for injuries.

He growled when the sliver of magic wrapped around Nathaniel and he felt the gashes on his neck rather than see them.

The boy who had done it had run away.

With a forceful tug, they all came to him.

Three small figures leapt at him, Nathaniel spooned against Harry's back, while Colin and Dennis snuggled against Harry's front. A body sat on the bed and it dipped. A cautious hand fell upon his legs before a soft weight settled on his thighs. Sebastian.

He frowned.

Two were missing.

He lifted his head slightly and smiled sleepily when he saw them standing stiffly to the side. With another serene smile, they came closer to him and Harry rached both his hands for their own. One pale and smooth hand and one potion-stained and calloused.

He sighed at the waves of contentment that he felt to have discovered that all of his- _what?- _had not been harmed.

He held both hands in his grip tighter before his hold slackened and he fell back onto his pillow, his snores long and undisturbed.

* * *

Harry woke again, later, when no one was around. He felt good, better than he had that previous weeks at Hogwarts. He felt like all was well and he felt like birds and flowers were prancing about in his mind, giving him a sense of euphoric calm (technically impossible).

He twisted in his sheets, wanting to reach out and touch something.

His questing fingers encountered nothing but air and they stilled, trembling.

Something that wasn't there.

An empty sense of loss overwhelmed him and Harry buried his head under the pillow and fisted the sheets.

He was missing something, but what?

Something that he'd had only moments ago- and didn't have now…

Harry dug his fingers into his scalp and pulled, his head hurt. A few strands of hair floated down onto the crisp white sheets and Harry batted them away, confused and empty.

He couldn't remember.

Only faintly could he remember the feel of soft and calloused hands within his own and warmth surrounding him from all sides.

Sighing deeply, Harry wrapped the sheets around his middle and swung his legs off the bed.

"Madam Pomfrey?", he called out tentatively, feeling strange as he whiffed the sheets. Wonderful smells that all mixed together until he couldn't define one from another.

There was an answering tap on the floor and Pomfrey appeared in front of Harry's curtained bed.

"How are you feeling? Nauseous at all?"

Harry smiled, "No, I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him with a disbelieving eye, but as nothing but silence filled the room, she sighed and opened the curtains, letting the sunlight into the dim infirmary.

"Dumbledore told me that you need to go to his office tonight, straight after dinner. Important business he says." Pomfrey scoffed and then added under her breath so that Harry couldn't hear,

"-what could possibly be more important than a student's health?"

Harry flopped back into bed and let Madam Pomfrey apply bruise balm on his arms and legs.

Which reminded Harry of another thing that severely needed bruise balm.

Harry stiffened and Pomfrey made a disapproving noise,

"Relax, child."

Harry tried to relax his muscles while he slipped one hand into the sheets that were wrapped around his middle to find his…tail.

His tail was poking out from between his legs- it was wrapped in gauze and had probably been treated already.

"Did you-" He choked out, gesturing at his middle.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from her work and looked enquiringly at him.

"...T-tail?" He stuttered out.

Her gaze cleared and she simply said, "Dumbledore", as if that explained everything. And it did.

A while later, she came back with a small tray with a bowl of porridge and a small jar of sugar on it. She pulled the sliding table from the side of his bed and put the tray upon it, placing the spoon down next to it gently.

"Not too much", she warned him, before going somewhere- probably to get her patient register.

Harry quickly spooned three scoops of sugar into his porridge and started eating ravenously.

And with some guilt.

Pomfrey came back with the register moments later and she frowned at Harry's bowl and the amount of sugar left inside the jar. She wrote some notes down and then said,

"You many go as soon as you finish that bowl, Mr Potter, class begins in half an hour"

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Madam Pomfrey grabbed the jar of sugar and got her measuring tape out.

"Three spoonfuls!" She exclaimed, before crossing out something she'd written on the register and replacing it with something along the lines of, "A very, very naughty boy

* * *

Snape was in a very bad mood and as soon as Harry stepped into the door, he'd been tolled 5 house points.

However, Snape did not once look into Harry's eyes.

Harry thought it was strange.

His potions classes did not fare much better.

Professor Bainbridge was usually a 'cool' man, with impeccable manners and robes that- although modest- looked very well made, he was gallant to the girls and many of them had crushes on him, or Harry- or Malfoy for that matter.

Bainbridge was odd around Harry- he never mentioned the incident, nor did it seem that he had told anyone… but he was shifty, and his eyes, normally a brown flecked with gold, seemed to flicker around Harry in confusion whenever he came near.

Harry was also feeling irritated and snappy, whenever someone did something small- even a tap on the back- it would set him off, make him want to rip their necks and arms off.

But he contained himself- because he was the golden boy.

So it was safe to say, that after dinner in the great hall, Harry was feeling fit to kill a bear and then eat it raw- and cackle like a madman all the while.

* * *

Robes billowing like mad as he took long strides to the Headmaster's, Harry spat out the password and waited for the goddamn gargoyle to swing out of the way.

He ground his teeth when the stone statue seemed to take it's time on purpose, watching Harry with a gleeful look. Of course, it was just him hallucinating, but still… Harry glared back at it and slowly the doorway became completely open.

Not entirely forgetting his manners, Harry stepped into the office and greeted Dumbledore, who was standing by his large windows.

"Harry, my boy! Take a seat, take a seat"

Harry sat and grimaced at the hard wooden chair- designed to make naughty students uncomfortable. He looked up at where the Headmaster was standing and thought it was odd that Dumbledore chose to not sit in his chair while Harry sat on the other side of the desk. Dumbledore liked to stare at his students- something he did often with his glimmering blue eyes.

Curious and yet irritated that the Headmaster wasn't getting on with it, he watched as Dumbledore smiled at the chair, and then made a gesture with his hand.

The tall, leather chair (muggle-made, Dumbledore liked it cause it was intimidating and comfy in one- which isn't very common) swung around and Harry came face to face with a middle-aged man with imposing aura.

Something flared within him and he gripped the chair hard. An audible crack! Filled the room and the man with the graying temples chuckled.

"Good, good. All seems to be in order"

Harry felt tendrils of magic prod him and pushing lightly on his shoulders, he growled and the man's expression changed, "Now that's not good."

The regal man within the chair fixed his stony eyes onto Harry's.

"Opposing your elders?"

With one look Harry felt as if the weight of the universe had fallen upon his shoulders and he fell to the ground, gasping. The world swirled around him and suddenly the ground felt like jelly under his hands and knees.

He tried to get back up, pushing himself up on one foot, but instantly the weight doubled and Harry collapsed onto the carpet, feeling like he'd been run over by a million-ton train.

The heaviness increased again and he groaned in pain. The weight lifted.

A polished foot appeared in Harry's vision and a strong voice said, "Consider that lesson learnt. Never again, you hear?"

Harry nodded and strong arms lifted him back into the chair. He fell into his chair and panted, regaining his breath.

What?

Suddenly, a loud chortle reached Harry's ears.

"You'll be a fine addition to my subjects!"

He couldn't believe his ears, "Subject?", he said, hoarse.

The man in the suit raised an eyebrow, "Well, I suppose you were ever since your eighteenth birthday…"

Harry felt a sinking suspicion he knew what this was about, but he wasn't about to jump to conclusions.

"Who are you?"

The man frowned at that, but never the less he answered, extending a hand towards Harry.

"Aubrey Northwode VI, King of the people who rule the Shadows"

* * *

**THE CENSUS BEGINS! (JUST CLICK THE REVIEW BUTTON)**

_Every reader gets **2 points**. You can spend them both on one character or on two different ones._

**DRACO, SEBASTIAN AND RYR**

**The three above have special roles in this story (Mate? Important Person?) and _cannot be voted for._**

Snape/

Nathaniel/

Charlie/

Colin & Dennis (as a package)/

Colin/

Dennis/

**Wow, that is actually quite a short list.. well, this poll thing lasts for as long as i like, the deadline will only be when i write END POLL on one of the author's notes i leave at the beginning/end.**

**YOU MAY ALSO ASK ME TO INCLUDE ANOTHER CHARACTER THAT APPEARS IN THIS FIC WITHIN THE NEXT 5 CHAPTERS TO BE ON THE LIST.**

~Nekro Kitty


	12. The Iron Girdle

**THANKYOUS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS AND APOLOGIES FOR THE LATE UPDATE!**

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

* * *

Inside Dumbledore's office, the Savior had the silliest urge to kneel and kiss the man's shoes. He didn't though, and kept his arms folded across his knees.

Northwode's lips quirked to the side and said conversationally to Dumbledore, "I see what you mean. Harry is in a very volatile state"

Dumbledore nodded, robes swishing and Harry bit back the scathing remark that had been bubbling at the back of his throat. This man didn't even know him well enough to use his first name!

Northwode stared a while at Harry, his eyes unblinking and gaze unwavering. After a long while, he reached into the pocket of his navy suit and withdrew a small box.

It looked like a jewelry box.

Harry knitted his brows together.

"Kneel", the older man said commandingly. Harry knelt.

The man hooked a finger under the lid and it flipped up.

Right now, the scene was quite comical; they looked like two men parodying a proposal, the one proposing standing up while the one being proposed to kneeled on the ground. He scoffed. Harry heard the clang of silver and he tried to see what was happening but a large hand forced him to face the carpet again.

The phoenix pattern on the carpet stood out glaringly amongst the pale blue background.

Harry sighed, it really was rather ugly.

Something as cold as ice touched his neck and Harry yelped. His hand shot up to touch his throat. He felt cold metal. His hand followed the thick chain until it encountered a round object dangling from the front. He gripped it and twisted it so that he could see. It took a bit of superhuman neck stretching and eye-straining, but Harry could see it.

It was a round amulet with spikes shooting out from the main attraction, a red ruby the size of an almond.

Harry frowned at it. It would look nice on him he supposed, if he didn't rip it off him for being too gaudy, that is.

He would've thought that Northwode had more taste in gifts for teenage boys- or males basically on the start line of their adulthood, you know, NOT a necklace.

As if reading his thoughts, the King- or whatever he was, gestured at him to get up and sit down. Harry did, trying to not shift uncomfortably on the hard chair.

"Tell me" The man with the grey streaked hair said, "Has anything…unusual happened to you lately?"

Harry raised an eyebrow; did he have to answer the question? He didn't even know this guy. He looked at Dumbledore; the old man was smiling assuredly.

"Maybe" Harry said, cryptically.

"Maybe? Hmm… Spouts of overwhelming anger caused by small things?"

The-Boy-Who-Lived looked hesitantly at the smirking man.

"Jumped anyone yet?"

"What!?" Harry shouted, jumping up from his chair; his face a bright cherry red.

"Jumped anyone yet?" Northwode said, louder.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, sitting back down and putting his head into his hands.

"Oh?" The older man lifted an eyebrow. "Not even a kiss?"

"No…" Harry said, burying his head deeper. _Almost. _Harry almost had.

"Amazing self-control" the King said, "What about scratching?"

Harry lifted his head from his hands and looked at the tuxedo wearing man, "Scratching?"

"You don't know?"

Harry shook his head and rearranged his legs, making his self more comfortable.

"It's something Scáth do. To mark those who are important enough to protect"

Harry twisted his expression until it resembled someone who'd just eaten a lemon.

Northwode placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward till his face was inches away from Harry's.

"We do it unconsciously. You may not be aware of it, but there could be legions of people whom you've already marked"

"I haven't"

"Well, we can't be sure of that can we?"

Harry blinked, "What does it do specifically?"

The man leant back, his heavy aura easing out of the atmosphere and compressing back into the slim, tuxedoed body.

"It's a rather good thing to have done, really. You could call it a- a bond. A bond between you and the people you deem that will never betray you- people that you can trust"

Harry frowned, letting his teeth drag on his bottom lip.

"How do you know that they won't betray you? People can lie- they often do"

The man leant back in his chair and said, smugly, "Well that's the good thing, isn't it? Let your Scáth do it for you- it never goes wrong. It benefits everyone, really, they get the extra protection, and you get people who will never betray you"

"And what happens to them- how do you know who it is?" Harry challenged anything that involved scratching sounded pretty damn weird to him. It also felt right, somehow, but Harry pushed _that _thought into the dark recesses of his mind.

Northwode paused for a moment, ringed fingers tapped lightly on the oak table.

"They are mostly your closest friends- you could perform a spell, but it has escaped me for the moment- there's also another way"

"What?"

"Ask them"

"They could lie"

"Why would they lie about you scratching them? Is it something that your friends would think important?"

Harry considered, dipping his head to the side- it made sense. It made a lot of sense, actually. The King smiled and took his hands off his chair.

"Sunday night"

"Pardon?"

"There is a Scáth gathering every Sunday night, you will meet with the other newly-inherited and train: etiquette, behavior, everything you do not know shall be answered"

Northwode leaned forward and whispered the address into Harry's ear. Harry looked up at him questioningly, he said, "Fidelius charm" and then grinned.

* * *

Aubrey watched as the tall boy left the room and marveled at the presence that he had. At the mate less Scáthling- robes fluttering around him and the faintest hint of magic trailing behind him.

"You know" He said conversationally to Albus, as the wizened man drank his tea, sitting across the oaken desk, "I was once like him"

The other man raised a silvery eyebrow and Aubrey chuckled.

"Oh yes, a strong, mate less Scáth trapped inside a place where submissives roamed about- many of them."

He winked at Albus, who was chuckling lightly and said, conspiratorially, "Hormone driven teenagers. I'm glad that _that _era of my life has passed, quite exhausting it was"

The Headmaster choked on his mouthful of tea and Aubrey clapped him on the back, his booming laughter echoing through the office.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Harry decided he'd have to give '_Belinda's Boutique for the Beatific_' a go.

He… had a lot of things happening tomorrow.

At noon, he was required to be at the so called 'courtship' meeting and then when _that _finished at five, he'd go to the Scáth gathering until approximately midnight- he had permission from Dumbledore, of course.

Harry had decided it wasn't particularly good to only have one 'semi-formal/formal' outfit, especially when you were heir to two families.

Harry wondered whether there'd be any people from his 'families'.

Maybe

Maybe not

As he pulled on his invisibility cloak, Harry shook out the marauders map, making sure no one was around. It was also a good idea to get more robes, Harry thought, because if you were going to go to a 'courtship' thingy, you might as well dress to impress.

He jogged up the stairs, cursing as it swung around while he was only halfway up. He waited a moment for the dust to settle and then shook out the map again.

He eventually got to the corridor where the one-eyed witch was, and he whispered, "Dissendium". As the hump slid open, he clambered into the opened end of the statue and struggled to place his legs somewhere where they would not be in the way.

Eventually, he slid down and after a quick half hour of walking, he arrived at the dusty cellar of Honeyduke's.

Once there, Harry lifted up the circular trapdoor and took the well worn route to the front exit of the shop while dodging small children throwing candy across the store and angry clerks squawking at them.

Thunk!

Harry looked down in alarm

A wetly glistening Sour-slime Snake (fresh out of the kid's mouth, he might add) had been ripped out of the mouth of the small child and tossed -by the same angry clerk- was now stuck to his invisibility cloak.

Hoping that no one would notice, Harry tried to dash out of the store.

No luck.

Everyone inside Honeyduke's watched, slack jawed, as a long yellow snake lolly floated in the air, wriggling, as if taunting someone to come catch it.

"It's floating!" Three small kids screamed at once, shouting and pulling each other to look. A look of delight came over each of the children and Harry gulped. Hurriedly, Harry pinched the snake and threw it away from him.

"Cool!" They shrieked, as it hurtled towards them. Each jumped and leaped for the lolly, before landing on top of each other in a wriggling mess.

The victorious one grinned, showing loose teeth, "My lucky charm!" and promptly shoved it, all sticky, into his pocket.

Harry shuddered and as a person opened the door, he dashed out, almost tripping over his feet in the process.

He looked around him, surveying the familiar town. Harry frowned, where was he supposed to find the place? He looked around him, and how to begin?

Asking someone was out of the question- Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived.

The press would have a field day.

As he walked around, he caught sight of himself in an old newspaper, lying discarded on the ground.

Harry stopped and stared. Wow, he hadn't even realized when he had stopped thinking of the person in the image as him. Harry recognized himself immediately, although smaller and more kid-like.

Harry couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

He had changed so much.

The base features were still there- but the height, the hair, no one seeing him would link him to the Savior that quickly.

Which was…good

Deciding quickly that it was easier this way, Harry stepped into an alley way and took the cloak off, casting a minor glamour charm on his scar and then stepped back into the main street.

A murmuring of voices surrounded him as soon as he stepped out- none about Harry Potter, he noticed gladly. He had counted on the fact that no articles had been published on him recently; Harry shuddered to think of what _would _be published on him.

A woman with poufy blonde hair passed him and Harry touched her on the arm. She turned around, startled. Harry gave her his (hopefully) best smile, "Sorry, but do you know where _Belinda's_…"

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke early although he had been hanging out with Ryr the night before.

Chucking his sheets off quickly, he opened his cupboard and ran a critical eye over the things he had bought yesterday.

Too much, he thought.

The woman there- Belinda- hadn't been very helpful.

As soon as he'd gone in, her face had lit up in delight, obviously recognizing by the clothes that he'd worn (the only formal clothes he had) and probably thinking in her mind:

Handsome, powerful, nice clothes: Wealthy

Young: Gullible

She had immediately flown about the shop and pulled out robes and waistcoats like there was no tomorrow and cooed over Harry each time he tried a different one on.

…They started the afternoon with a selection of thirty sets of robes (and the stuff that came with it: waistcoats, trousers, shoes, ties) and Harry had gone away with… twenty-four sets… and considerably less money.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair- they did look decent on him, he admitted as he grabbed a navy themed set (from a cupboard Harry had had to install in front of the window). Without giving much thought about it, he pulled it all on and went into the bathrooms and brushed his teeth. After he wiped his mouth, he stepped back into the room.

Harry swept his gaze around the dorm, Seamus was still asleep in his bed (snoring), and the rest were probably in the common room. Harry let himself grin, Seamus's snores were worse than Ron's, and that said something.

As soon as he ducked out of his dorm, he was greeted with stunned silence and wide-eyed looks.

"Harry?"

He turned around and made a show of preening himself. Hermione giggled and thumped Harry on the arm with the newest book she'd managed to get her hands on.

"Wait till Ron sees _you!_" She gasped, "He's going to have a fit!"

Harry scratched the side of his head, "Do I look that bad?"

Hermione gave him an incredulous look, "Harry, are you trying to make a joke? Because I assure you, all the girls in school will be sinking their fangs into you and waging war as soon as they-"

"HARRYYYYYY!"

_Fuck_

Romilda Vane

The one whom had put love potion in his chocolate cauldrons - and got Ron instead.

Harry's inner self face-palmed while his outside smiled politely and tried, _tried, _to excuse himself. Romilda took no notice and attached herself to Harry's arm, showing a… surprisingly intense grip of strength.

Harry snorted, _Yeah, the kind that can strangle metal poles._

As Ginny rounded the corner, Harry cursed under his breath and brushed Romilda off by saying he needed to go to the bathroom.

It wasn't even noon yet. He sighed.

As he entered the common room, he ducked his head down, wishing he had snuck out with his invisibility cloak.

* * *

Seamus heard a squeal and his eyes opened, disturbed from his long and peaceful sleep. Rubbing a hand over his stomach, he pulled his sheets off him and yawned. Hooking one leg over the side of the bed, he grabbed the shirt and pants he wore yesterday and slid them on.

Just as he left the room, he hear Harry excuse himself to the bathroom and Seamus chuckled under his breath, it was happening _every_ day, and for once, Ron wasn't even slightest bit jealous.

Every time Ron saw Romilda with Harry, he went slightly green- which was not even as bad as when Ron saw him with his sister.

Seamus shook his head and laughed under his breath, he wouldn't want to be Harry, at all.

Worrying about breakfast, Seamus hurried down the hallway and into common room, grinning when he saw all his friends sitting around the small round table in the corner, playing muggle chess; Something that they were trying, although Ron complained incessantly about it. Seamus thought that it wasn't quite as exciting as wizard's chess - you didn't often get to see wooden Queens get off their thrones and whack their opponents with said object.

Silently, he slid down onto the couch where he was squished between Ron and Neville.

His eyes widened, Dean was going to-

"No- _damn it_ Dean!" Seamus cried when Ron took Dean's rook with his bishop.

"That would've helped- _earlier" _Dean said, with clenched teeth. With a flick, he moved his knight and took one of Ron's pawns.

Ron chuckled and swiped Dean's knight from the board, having defeated it with his rook.

Seamus whistled, "Nice play" and then looked at the pile of chess pieces to Ron's side. Yep, Ron was definitely winning.

Suddenly through the game, Seamus realized that something was strange had happened- the normally loud chattering in the common room had gone and in its place was eerie silence.

Seamus looked up and a grin split his face.

A shaggy raven head was ducked low, skin flushed and posture slumped as it shuffled its way through the silent common room.

It was… magnificently dressed.

Very magnificent- and it looked ridiculously out of place, although where Harry was going, Seamus supposed, it was probably not out of place at all.

Seamus chuckled under his breath and prodded his friends. They all looked up and Seamus pointed silently at the slumped figure that was…dangerously near the door.

With barely a look at one another, they grinned and made a mad dash for the imposing, but hunched down figure of the boy in navy robes.

"Haarrrry!" They shouted in unison, leaping upon the satin clothed boy and tussled him onto the floor.

They wrestled a moment, Seamus holding an arm and Dean the other, Ron held both of Harry legs with his torso and Neville just leapt onto Harry, throwing his weight around.

* * *

"Haarrry!"

Harry felt a heavy object fly into him and knock his breath out, with sheer luck, he managed to fall just slightly off his tail and instinctively let it curl around one leg, which his robes concealed.

"Guys" He groaned, trying to prop himself up.

Four grinning boys looked down at him, prodding the expensive navy robes and the grey waistcoat within, poking at the shiny leather shoes and laughing madly at the thought that Harry was going out to impress some girl.

…which was, not far off the mark…

More than that, Harry realized that although his friends were obviously in some position of power, he wasn't ruffled at all. He wasn't angry- didn't feel the rage that had crept over so many times since his return to Hogwarts.

Ron's face was like a blowfish, cheeks filling with air as he tried not to laugh.

"I would _not _want to be you!" he shrieked, prodding Harry in the stomach.

Grinning, he let his friends run their hands over the expensive material and goggle at the price tag still attached.

"Far out…" they breathed.

All of them leapt off him at once.

Harry shook his head, "Don't ask", he warned, glaring at each of his friends one by one.

"I'm asking", Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you better get used to it. I'm gonna be dressed like this at least once a week"

"Weekly dates?" Neville asked, cheekily.

"..Kind of…"

Seamus giggled, "What? She has a pole up her arse?"

Harry rolled his eyes as his friends chortled madly, impersonating a rich woman with impeccable taste.

"And his hair still gets away with being untamable" A voice said, slyly from behind Ron's back.

Harry saw brown bushy hair and grinned, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, 'Mione"

Hermione smiled and then frowned as she looked over her shoulder.

Harry saw Ginny enter the room from the corner of his eyes and his grin faded.

Fast

"Gotta go, guys", he said hurriedly before he pulled his robes up and off the ground and dusted himself off. Without another word, he hurried out of the common room, quickly clambering out of the portrait hole.

A few short minutes later, he tickled the pear and sniffed the air in delight.

"Master Harry!" tens of voices shouted at the same time, blinking up at him owlishly.

Harry felt a pang of pain shoot through him as he thought of Dobby. The innocent house elf that had been thrown into all of this mess, and then killed to save him; to save Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"Jam on toast and tea, please" Harry said, bowing his head slightly.

The house elves looked on in amazement, "Yes, yes!" they shouted, climbing over each other in eagerness.

Harry smiled gently at the house elf that gave the platter to him and sat in a corner of the kitchen, unwilling to face the masses in the Great Hall.

After he finished, Harry hurried to the library, taking a less traveled route there. The librarian looked at him sharply but didn't ask questions as he traveled the aisles and pulled out a couple of books on divination.

Might as well start on his Divination homework.

* * *

Harry put his book back into the shelf. He slunk out of the library, hands in pockets, legs moving quickly. He didn't want to be late.

Only minutes later, Harry was out of Hogwarts, ignoring the few curious glances that came his way. He kept moving until- with his new sensitivity to magic- he could feel the tell-tale signs of the magical wards letting him pass through, creating a fluttery feeling all over his skin.

After the whole episode with Voldemort using a Portkey to lure Harry outside the safety of the wards, they had been upgraded.

You would wonder why they didn't have this safety precaution before.

Harry flicked his wand and looked at the time.

_Almost time._

Gingerly, he set the slim fountain pen down on the ground and watched as the second hand crept towards the twelve.

Harry bended over in his polished leather shoes and touched the silver pen, wincing as he was pulled by an invisible force.

* * *

Harry stumbled almost imperceptibly as he landed, appearing at the same time as many others, treading the air lightly. Robes rustled and dresses swished as they landed in a large, circular foyer.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his robes.

Gods, the smell.

Several others also tugged uncomfortably on their robes while some females struggled to keep themselves upright.

A deep chuckle sounded behind Harry and a voice said, "Fresh outta this season, eh?"

The crowd chuckled loudly and most females giggled. Another, younger, voice called out, "You'll soon learn that if you're gonna come here, you'll need to bring a sturdy loin girdle- made of iron"

The chuckling turned into uproarious laughter and the 'greenhorns' blushed in their shoes, faces burning.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the event begins" A nasal voice said.

Harry followed the sound with his eyes and spied a small, piebald man pushed two magnificently carved oak doors open and the masses started to flow in.

Harry was stopped at the door by a hand on his arm. He looked down to see the small man who had opened the doors hold out a large sack. Harry peered in and saw the glitter of countless jewels, glimmering at him even in the darkness.

Jewelry?

The small man looked sourly at him as Harry continued to stand there, dumb.

"C'mon boy"

Harry bristled at that, although no answering rush came to his indignation.

"I'm sorry, sir. What must I relinquish?" He said, as politely as possible.

The man sighed, as if he were used to blundering fools stumbling his way.

"Amulet. Your amulet, son"

Harry lifted an arm and palmed the ruby amulet at his neck.

"I don't think I'm supposed to take this off-"

The small man waved him off, "It's a requirement, a requirement; A Council decree and all. Let out your inner beast and all"

Harry frowned.

"You know, don't blur your senses when finding your soul mate… look, son, just take it off. It'll be returned to you, safe and sound at the end."

Harry shrugged and tried to pull it off, hooking a finger behind the thick chain. Surprisingly, it let him.

Perhaps there was something about the location?

Harry held the heavy and warm metal in his fingers and dropped it into the pouch, not surprised when he heard a distant cling; a pouch like Hermione's.

Harry proceeded to within and instantly fidgeted more, swishing his robes around his front to hide his…well, you know.

The atmosphere inside was completely different than the one outside. It was like all the prim and proper people outside had changed, changed as they left the foyer without.

Gone inside without their chains, their amulets, and gone inside as their creature selves.

* * *

-And what could possibly be happening in there?

Okay, wait. That last sentence sounded a little to PWP themed for me…. But Meh Think what you like, you won't know until you read the next chapter :P

~ NEKROKITTY

* * *

Okay, the poll has moved to:

www2. adult fan fiction forum/ index. php/ topic/ 41566-dark-knight-poll-for-harrys-mates-neuroticneko/

REMOVE ALL SPACES^^^^

**Even non-members can vote! All you have to do is leave a comment.**

**The current votes are:**

Nathaniel: 7

Snape: 22

Charlie: 12

Colin & Dennis: 8

Colin: 2


	13. Twice in a Day

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED/VOTED!

* * *

No Wizarding laws held any ground here. No such thing as pedophilia or discrimination between people with 30 year age gaps.

It was a place for creatures looking for 'that special someone/s'.

Pure and simple

It only made sense to say that, this was some kind of holy ground for all creatures, a place to forget the death hold that the Ministry gripped them in. In this place, the only thing that mattered was that you were a magical creature, thus, a potential mate.

The place was grand, a hall that seemed to be miles by miles. Doors lined the great room, presumably there for 'intimacy' and there were four larger double doors scattered among the private rooms. All presumably had some use.

Harry furrowed his brows and straightened his posture, glaring at the men and women that had stationed themselves just beside the front door, looking for new arrivals, easy pickings- food…

One of the men, obviously a vampire, bared his teeth at Harry and the Savior grimaced back- then hid his grin with a sleeve as a young girl, with the outfit of a nurse (real or costume?) hurried up to him and clapped hands over her charge's mouth.

"Gee, Mr. Robinson. You forgot your pills again, didn't you? How many times have I told you-?"

Harry moved on in a hurry, his robes swishing around his feet as he quickly walked away from the glowering vampire.

_So, vampires, eh_

Harry chuckled at the thought of another person who resembled a vampire-

Oh, Merlin's hairy beard.

There were going to be people here that he'd probably know. The probability was high; Very high, higher than the tallest mountain on earth.

Fuck.

This was going to be really… awkward.

Harry swept his gaze across the extremely large chamber, wondering where he should go… stake out.

That sounded ridiculous.

Hunt?

Become invisible?

Eat?

Wait, that sounded like a good idea.

Seeing a section of the place completely dedicated to feeding starved people, he dodged some (possibly) drunk people; he quickly made his way there. Harry wrinkled his nose at a large platter of seaweed with a few small crabs still scuttled within. There was a large variety of outlandish foods that no ordinary wizards or witches would dream of eating. Although, he admitted, the Wizarding world already ate many strange things.

Take hog's lung for example.

Harry spied a veritable pile of raw, still bleeding, animal hearts on one of the plates; being enthusiastically consumed. There was freshly mown grass, some wriggling fish, large baskets of otherwise unheard of fruits (or what looked like fruits) and a tank with live abalone stuck on the clear walls.

Harry smelled an overwhelming scent of lavender and tried not to heave as a heavily dressed female exclaimed loudly and reached for a plate of… nasty looking, cockroach things.

"Giant water bugs, my favorite! Didn't know they had these here- did you, Clancy?"

Harry grimaced as the woman grabbed a couple of the disgusting bugs and popped them inside her mouth, chewing loudly.

"Clancy, try one. They're divine. Crunchy and juicy"

"No thanks, Victoria. I'll pass"

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust as she walked past and he scanned the table for some more… normal looking foods.

There were some innocent looking platters of small crackers with… the French duck paste thingy. Harry reached for one and popped it into his mouth. It tasted fine. Harry wondered for a moment, why did he, a creature himself, have no special taste for- creature foods?

"I wouldn't swallow that if I were you"

Harry spun around, his throat muscles working as he swallowed the cracker so he could fire off a retort to the cynical voice behind him.

Like: Mind your own beeswax

His voice died in his throat as he recognized the speaker.

The man who had suggested everyone wears iron girdles.

"Nicklaus Bainbridge, nice to meet you", the man smiled, offering one lean fingered hand.

Harry raised an eyebrow, recognizing the name… perhaps…

The man in front of him did kind of resemble Professor Bainbridge.

Harry tugged his lips to the side of his face, resembling a wonky grimace.

"Harry, Harry Potter"

The blonde man raised an eyebrow slightly before gesturing towards Harry, "Feeling queasy yet?"

Harry furrowed his brows, his stomach felt fine… and the food he had just eaten didn't taste off.

"No, I'm fi- uunnngh"

Harry felt his stomach lurch and he stumbled, legs feeling weak as the bile bubbled out from the back of his throat. He grasped his throat lightly, trying to quell the sick feeling in his stomach. He felt his vision blur slightly before he was scooped up.

It felt nice, too nice.

"You really shouldn't have eaten that. Only meant for the Fey, they were"

Harry just moaned in confusion and tried to bury his head into the soft folds of Nicklaus's robes. Feeling heat rush through his limbs, he linked his wobbly arms around the waist of the man he was being carried by.

"You need to vomit that out, Mr. Potter. Very soon"

Harry shook his head from side to side and tried to bury himself into the warm heat. His Scáth growled disapprovingly, but the drug inside the innocent crackers had it tame and subdued; only showing itself mentally.

The arms around him lifted for a moment, but Harry was unaffected, his own arms keeping him anchored onto the man's waist. The sound of a twisting knob reached Harry's ears and he resisted the hands that tugged at his arms.

"C'mon, let go, before you do something that you regret-"

_Too late_

Harry grasped the back of the man's head and pulled him in tightly, forcing his tongue past the tight lips and into the warm cavern beyond. The older man groaned into the kiss, as Harry's tongue swept around his mouth, tasting every inch. The kiss lasted for another few moments before a small squeak if fright alerted him to the presence of another person, who quickly exited the scene.

Nicklaus pulled away from Harry, flushed and trembling and chuckled nervously while tugging his robes closer together as Harry tried to rip them off him.

"Enough, you need to vomit the shite out before you anything more serious, Mr. Potter"

Harry blinked through the strange haze that filled his mind.

"Harry. Call me Harry", he said, kneeling down in front of the toilet.

"Alright, Harry. Now heave"

Harry didn't make a move. Nicklaus shoved two fingers into Harry mouth, squirming as Harry tried to suck on them and pushing them farther in until, WHAM! Boy-Who-Lived was spewing it all out, onto his fingers and into the large waiting maw of the terrifying toilet bowl.

"There that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Harry slumped back onto the ground, grimacing at the disgusting flavor of his upheaval.

"Sorry" He grunted, as he blurrily watched Nicklaus wash his hands with a pleasant smelling bar of soap.

"Sorry for what?"

"Molesting you, kissing you- vomiting all over your hands" He added the last one apologetically.

"Hmm…you're fortunate that I'm only interested in women, otherwise you'd be on my bed-"

Harry's Scáth decidedly didn't like the sound of that, and before he could stop himself (No amulet, no self-control), he muttered, "Or you'd be spread wide open on mine"

Nicklaus (who was decidedly looking more like Professor Bainbridge now) raised an eyebrow, his hairline rising with it.

"Oh, you're dominant? Didn't seem that way, the way you were acting before- but then again, fey stuff does crazy shit to the system"

Harry got up weakly and headed over to where the other man was standing, turning the tap on and bringing handfuls to his mouth, rinsing his teeth and tongue clean of the foul tasting remnants of the puke.

"Are you planning on checking out the candidates anytime soon?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably-" Not, he was going to add, but excited chatter interrupted him

"Oh good! That's why I started stalking you in the first place'

"Uh… yeah?"

"Well, you seemed a nice guy, new, tall, powerful and rich looking. I'm planning on riding your coattails, tonight. Meet some nice people… maybe find 'the one', although, some of us have been looking for so long, we wonder why we still come…" He trailed off, as he saw the Savior stare off into the side.

Without warning, he raked his hair through the younger man's locks and pulled Harry's robes back into respectable performance.

"Let's go mingle- is that what the Muggles say?"

Harry twisted his lips; he hadn't interacted with Muggles much since, well, since he turned eleven.

"Eh, who knows?"

* * *

Harry sat uncomfortably on a plush loveseat, legs crossed and staring at the people dancing in front of him.

…It was…scary.

The only time he had ever danced in his life was at the Yule ball, three years ago.

And trust me, it was fading fast.

Harry slumped back into the seat and let his fingers sink into the pillow. True to his word, Nicklaus had quickly dragged Harry to the ballroom side of the place, dumped him in a seat and waited for the fishes to come.

And come they did.

Harry studiously followed every step Nicklaus had drilled into his brain,

* * *

_**[Flashback]**_

"Right, Harry"

Harry nodded, trying to sit casually in a chair while Nicklaus whispered hotly in his ear.

"Okay, okay. Look casual"

Harry slumped.

"No, no, no-"

The Savior winced as the older male jabbed him in the back.

"_Rich casual"_

Harry frowned. Was that code word for something? He tilted his head to the side and tried to turn his head but Nicklaus just yanked it forward again.

"Pretend I'm not here, you twit- oh, wait, wait- do the head thingy again. It looks like something a snob would do"

Harry frowned and tilted his head to the side again, hoping that he wouldn't have to keep it in this position. It felt potentially cramp inducing.

"hmm, hmmpph, hmmmmmmmppph" Nicklaus said in a nasally sounding voice from behind him.

Harry felt his annoyance level rise and felt his eyebrow twitch, erratically.

"Freeze!" Nicklaus cried.

Harry complied, feeling like an extremely moronic clown who had had plaster thrown onto his face.

"What?" He said, through the corner of his mouth.

"The eyebrow, the eyebrow Nice, nice"

The Savior let his features relax, save the eyebrow.

"There? Happy? Nick, if you give me a permanent eyebrow lift, I will hex your balls off"

The trouble maker ignored hm.

"Ok, ok. Now put one hand on the armrest, _casually- not like your trying to turn it into a plank! _Okay, now, cross your right leg over the left. Wait no! The left over the right, yeah, that's better"

Harry kept the grimace that threatened his features every second or so and relaxed his arm.

Without a warning, Nicklaus stuck his hand through Harry's hair and yanked it a couple of times. Then he shoved a wine glass under Harry's nose.

"Whas dis?" Harry choked out, trying to block his nose.

"Eh? Who knows? Its red- looks cool. Borrowed it from some dudes' table"

Harry took the stem of the glass gently between his left thumb and middle finger, letting the bottom rest lightly on his trousers.

"Done yet?" Harry whispered, trying not to break the image.

"Okay, okay. Great. One important thing, though"

Harry tried not to roll his eyes as Nicklaus opened his eyes wide and spoke in a deathly tone.

"Be mean to all of them. THEY'RE mine"

* * *

Harry winced inwardly and prepared himself for the first, a young woman with a… impressive front.

"Hey, sexy" she murmured, twisting a lock of hair with her fingertips.0

Wow. She was forward.

Harry let a corner of his mouth curl up and he slowly uncrossed his legs to give emphasis to the next thing he was going to say. He opened his mouth to say something cruel and the woman pounced, obviously thinking that his actions were a 'come hither'.

Seconds later, he had a 110 pound woman straddling his hips and attempting to mash her face into his. He tried to grab both of her wrists with his hands and restrain her but she just giggled and twisted her hips.

Harry gasped and his head fell back onto the satin seat.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Nicklaus glare at him and give him a 'time out' sign.

With supreme will, Harry forced her off him by the shoulder and gave her the coolest glance he could manage.

"Apologies, my lady, you seem to be a bit too- overweight for my liking"

With that, Harry leant back into his seat and picked up the forgotten glass. Hiding his grimace of disgust, he pretended to take a sip.

The woman's face began to blotch and her lower lip began to wobble.

Oh shit. Harry hated it when women started to cry.

Just as he was about to start apologizing, the woman flung herself off him and stumbled away, sobbing.

Nicklaus swooped in and captured the woman's arm with both his hands. With a roguish smile he winked and said,

"I for one do not believe that digusting man. You are _not _fat; merely chubby, _adorably_ chubby-"

SMACK!

"Ouch" Harry said, trying to hide his grin as the tear filled gaze of the woman glared at Nicklaus and then she said, half shrieking half sobbing;

"Why would I care what _you _think?"

Harry grinned and chuckled into his glass of… red…stuff, "Burn".

Nicklaus turned around slowly to look at Harry, his hands clutching both sides of his face.

"Did you- did you- did you see that? That was amazing!" He exclaimed, eyes growing wide and shiny.

Harry smiled unsurely, his eyebrows raising a tiny bit more than they needed to.

"Ah, aha…" he said, trying to sound sincere with two meaningless sounds. Really, what was he supposed to say?

Well done you, your success in getting hot women to slap you is unprecedented?

Nicklaus grinned broadly and flapped his hands at Harry.

"Well go on do it again!"

Harry sighed.

* * *

Harry flopped back into his seat and pulled the collar of his white shirt open. God, it was exhausting. Another half hour had passed with Harry luring women, rejecting them, and somehow, the only one who ever got slapped was Nicklaus.

Heh, not that Harry was complaining.

Barely anyone came Harry's way anymore- everyone in the area had learned to ignore that cold bastard sitting at the back and his lackey.

Nicklaus was moping.

Harry snorted into his fake drink, his plan wasn't working. He hadn't picked up a single girl.

The waltz-like music that had been playing gently by the small band (dwarves) had stopped and now the short creatures placed their instruments to the aide and picked up an assortment of guitars, drums and keyboards.

The music roared on and the crowd cheered, people that had recently been watching grabbed a partner and pulled them to the dance floor.

Harry vaguely recognized the newest Weird Sister Song.

With a leap, Nicklaus was gone, dragging some hapless young woman into the crowd.

Harry shrank into his seat, please, please, no one ask him-

"Would you like to dance?" A young girl asked nice dress, auburn curls. Her eyes sparkled as she extended a hand.

No, he didn't know how to. "Sorry- I haven't danced in a long time" he said, giving her a wry smile.

Three years, to be exact.

"Nonsense!" The girl cried, "Everyone can dance!"

She wasn't going to let this go was she?

"Look-" he started, waving a hand- but as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, he'd been yanked to his feet by the enthusiastic teen.

"My name's Chelsea, c'mon, let's dance!"

A reluctant Harry was dragged to the centre of the dance floor, where the auburn haired girl started gyrating her hips and nodding her head in time with the music.

"Move!" She yelled over the music.

Harry frowned and nodded his head in time with the music; Feeling very much like an awkward cuckoo clock. Chelsea giggled and grabbed Harry's hands, raising them into the air. She then leaned close and whispered in to Harry's ear, "Follow me"

Strangely, Harry started feeling very relaxed and loose. _Hey, this was fun! _He thought. You didn't really have to do anything- just move to the beat.

Harry grinned and was about to shout something to Chelsea when he spied a muscled man from the side stagger his way. Harry's eyes widened and he tried to move out of the way, but the man seemed to purposely ram into him and Harry felt the world tilt as his feet slipped from beneath him and he fell backwards. His head collided with something soft and he was dimly aware of someone shouting before his whole body collided with the floor- or rather, something soft and squishy.

"_Dad!_" A girl's petulant voice rang out.

Harry twisted his body around to apologize to the person he had fallen on. The boy under him smelt pretty nice, like oranges and sugar with a delicate vanilla overcoat- if smells could do that.

"Sorry" He said, wryly.

* * *

Draco forced the sneer of his face as he listened to the soft spoken woman besides him, she wasn't bad looking- nor was her personality very special; Very demure, very flighty…

Boring

Draco heard the song in the ballroom side of the place change and Draco politely excused himself from the reserved, nervous woman.

Smoothly, he flicked his fringe off his face and glided across the floor, hooking a slice of fruit off a platter and chewing it thoughtfully.

He was looking forward to seeing Ivan today; the little brown-haired minx was as dear to Draco as a younger brother. Companions in a long and exhausting attendance to the monthly gathering in which they had to battle for future mates…blah blah blah.

They also had a kind of deal between them.

Ivan would come running to Draco if an over enthusiastic dominant decided to start molesting him against his will, or even worse. Draco also saw fit to flaunt Ivan to any particularly sticky submissive who wouldn't go away- even if Draco became indifferent and cold to them.

They could not compare.

Draco chuckled, and walked a little faster, knowing that Ivan would be where the music was- the literal centre of the party.

He closed in onto the mass of people at the centre of the room, searching the crowds of swirling dances and suits for a small, spiky head.

Draco spotted him, smirked, and started towards Ivan but then his eyes narrowed.

Wait. That was…

Had he accidentally mistaken someone else for Ivan?

It wasn't possible that he'd mistake anyone for Ivan.

But then… Ivan wouldn't, he wouldn't-

Draco felt the snake of jealousy within him rising like a tsunami. Only _he_ could touch Ivan like that.

"Potter!" He snarled, striding towards the pair sprawled on the ground.

His boots cracked sharply against the marble floor and his expression was twisted into a mask of fury. He pushed through the swaying people and like lightning he grabbed the Golden Boy's collar.

Draco growled and thrust Potter away from him using both arms.

He could feel it coming on, the anger that hadn't come out since he had received Veela lessons from his father. He was beyond this, really.

But fuck, what did Potter think he was doing; To Ivan in front of all of these people?

Potter just looked at him vacantly from where Draco had shoved him to the ground.

"Malfoy? Wha-"

Draco's face contorted into a scowl and he backhanded Potter across the face with the back of his gloved hand. The crowd gasped and took a step back. He straddled Potter more securely and slapped him with his other hand.

"How dare you?" Draco yelled, his face going red. How could Potter- how could he…? Draco felt the anger seep out of him just as quickly as it came and he deflated. Who was he kidding? Ivan wasn't his- and he shouldn't feel jealous, but who was he jealous of? Draco shook his head, trying to get it clear.

A hard object hit him on the side of his head and Draco's world blurred. A strong hand grasped him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground. Potter's face came into focus and Draco gasped as Potter swung his fist and it connected with Draco cheekbone.

"You bastard!" He yelped.

Draco twisted his leg under Potter's and tried to get the larger male off him. The Savior bared his teeth and they rolled around the floor, each trying to wrestle the other off them and yet trying to deal damage.

"Somebody get them off each other!"

Draco felt someone, probably Ivan, try to pry him off Potter and someone do the same to the other male. Draco and Potter both brushed them off and resumed grappling with each other to get a hold. Draco tried to bite Potter's lapel to immobilize him but their faces just knocked together.

Draco stiffened, suddenly aware of how close they were to each other.

Potter froze and Draco took the chance to knee the Golden Boy in the balls.

Potter moaned breathily and Draco froze, knee still touching the other males groin.

Oh god.

Potter was hard- it _was _only expected, Draco thought, it was the first time he had seen him at the monthly gatherings after all.

Potter leaned closer and suddenly all Draco could think of was the hardness touching his knee and the Savior's breath puffing onto his face and Draco's own exhaustion and the fact that Draco had taken off his suppressing ring and that his Veela was trying to make its presence known now that it had smelt Potter's arousal in the air and-

_Merlin_

Harry was probably not wearing his suppressor and his creature was probably taking this the wrong way and Draco knew that in this state he would probably be leaking pheromones and he knew that-

Draco felt wetness on his neck and he struggled and writhed, trying to stop Potter from doing whatever he was trying to do. The lick continued under Draco chin and then up onto the tip of his chin until-

"Stop" Draco choked out, weakly.

The feral look in Potter's eyes didn't fade away and Draco felt a hot swipe of tongue on the corner of his mouth. He renewed his struggle with force. This was disgusting! It was POTTER for Merlin's sake. He was supposed to be everyone's perfect boy, not a tainted _creature_ that was trying to lick Draco Malfoy to death.

Potter growled and tackled Draco to the ground, where he rubbed his hips against Draco's front. The silver-haired boy tried to suppress his moan bit it slipped out anyway and then smooth lips were on his and then they were trying to pry his mouth open. Draco tightened his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together to try to shake Potter off.

The other boy gyrated his erection onto Draco's crotch and he felt stars burst across his eyes. Potter, the damn bastard, took the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth. He couldn't stop his body's natural reaction; to kiss back, ferally. Their tongues slid wetly in the hot chamber of their conjoined mouths and Draco felt Potter's hips increase their movement before Draco came to his senses and using his hand, which had been hanging limply from his side, he socked the boy on top of him.

_Hard_

* * *

Yay! That ended on a rather happy note-

O.O Wait… DOES THAT COUNT AS A CLIFFY? OH GODS NO- JUST WHEN I PROMISED NOT TOOOOOO

Oh well. Imma go eat dinner now- and play on my PSVita.

Did you know that they are releasing an HD version of Final Fantasy X? I can't wait for it!

* * *

Nathaniel: 10

Snape: 26

Charlie: 16

Colin & Dennis: 10

Colin: 2

* * *

The poll is probably coming to a close soon- even though Snape and Charlie are leading right now, all it needs is three-four people to vote and the balance will be tipped in Nathaniel's/Colin & Dennis's direction.

And review.


	14. Unexpected Battle

**Main Story Idea and betaed by: SuirenAngel**

**Written by: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

* * *

"Mate"

Something flickered on the edge of Harry's consciousness.

"Mate!"

Harry cracked his eyes open groggily. Merlin, his head hurt. Hurt like someone had punched him there so hard that it bruised. Then, as Harry started remembering, he groaned. Someone had.

Someone had moaned as he thrust his hips forward and as his tongue swiped hotly-

Nicklaus' face peered into each of Harry's eyes.

"Helloo, Harry?"

Harry grunted and shifted on his side. Bad idea; Malfoy had punched him there too.

"C'mon, mate. Gathering's ended, won't have to come back for another month"

Harry sat up and Nicklaus offered and arm, which he took, gratefully.

Once he stood up, Harry let go and dusted off his robes, fixing his collar and untangling his robes from around his legs- which made Harry remember about his… encounter… with the snarky Malfoy. Damn it, damn it- DAMNIT.

"Do we have to come to these things?" Harry sighed.

Nicklaus cocked his head, "Well, the first time. They send a vial of pheromones- I don't think any newbie creature can refuse that…and the thing about being shunned if you didn't come? Rubbish…"

The blonde haired male narrowed his eyes.

"…But why wouldn't you want to come anyway? It's a great opportunity to find a mate"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe to avoid danger- I mean what if you were injured?"

Nicklaus shrugged and his wavy hair spilled across his shoulders, "It's not compulsory. Most just come anyway. Oh wait, I think you have to come… at least once after your inheritance- or when you come of age"

"Come of age? I think I bloody saw some thirteen year olds in there!"

Nicklaus wrinkled his nose thoughtfully.

"There are a bunch of creatures out there that don't rely on activation of genes at a certain age, Take vampires and werewolves for example; you are either bitten or born. Their parents decide when they are ready, that's all."

Harry nodded slowly, "… you still haven't answered my question"

Nicklaus furrowed his brows. "Oh...that." he scratched his head uncomfortably,

"Well, you know with the Ministry and all- around six years ago our councils started these events. You see, the less of us there are the more easily we can be suppressed and dismissed. But if there are important people who are creatures- like you and Malfoy, for example-"

Harry winced. Yes, him and Malfoy. Him and- _oh no, don't go there stupid brain_, he thought.

"And you guys find your mates quickly- which they assume equals babies, the less chance there is of the Ministry doing what they did before"

The Savior chewed on his bottom lip; like they had with Hagrid and Remus.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Guess our world's just crazy-"

"NICKLAUS GET YOUR ARSE HERE!"

Harry froze mid-rake. "Wha-?" he looked enquiringly at the fidgeting man across from him. That had sounded a lot like…

"Sebastian?"

Nicklaus' eyes widened. "Uh huh how'd you know?"

Harry felt his eye twitch. "He's one of my professors"

Nicklaus grinned roguishly and fumbled in his pocket for something. Looking about shiftily, he pressed a small package into Harry's fingers.

"In his tea" Nicklaus winked.

Harry looked at the shifty looking package in his palm.

"Are you two related? Does he come here often?"

Nicklaus looked hurriedly at the door, "He's my cousin, mother's side. And well, he doesn't usually come- heard him talking about looking for someone this time though."

The chestnut haired man leaned closer, "The last time he came, I glamoured him secretly and turned him into the old man next door. Made him wonder why everyone was avoiding him like the plague

- gave him a fright when he looked into the mirror as well"

Harry and Nicklaus chuckled and the older man waved goodbye and Harry waved back.

It was quarter past five now, he was due at the-

[_FIDELIUS-CHARM-BLOCK_ aka. Author's Imagination-has-gone-on-holiday)

-at seven, where he would remain until eleven.

He would (hopefully) be supplied with a Portkey back to Hogwarts.

Humming to himself, Harry fetched his amulet back from the strange little piebald man, secured it around his neck and headed for Diagon Alley for some entertainment during the long two hour wait.

* * *

After a lengthy stroll while eating a toffee and caramel flavored ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, which, after Mr. Fortescue's death, was completely under the management of Flora Fortescue, his daughter, Harry was tired and ready to drop.

With a flick of his wand, Harry realized it was just about seven and he hadn't eaten anything but ice cream. He was starving. Harry dropped by a small corner restaurant and hastily ordered a small roll, which he was eating seconds later.

Chewing quickly, Harry checked the time and started walking towards his destination.

* * *

Harry stepped through the rubble of the fake castle ruins and located the stone arch quickly. Muttering the pass code under his breath, a glimmering wall appeared between the arches and Harry stepped through.

Harry appeared with barely a sound and he gazed around him in wonder.

A castle with the approximate dimensions of the ruins Harry had walked through moments before stood before him, in all its majestic glory. There were tall spiny turrets that appeared from nowhere, arched windows that spread from floor to floor, walls that gleamed white and flags that fluttered and spiraled in the gentle breeze.

Just like a fairytale.

Harry treads softly on the grass, not wanting to crush the delicate blades.

He stepped up to the great oak doors and before he could even knock, the door opened and a soft voice greeted him.

"Harry James Potter-Black, please, step this way"

Harry looked around him in confusion, there was no one around. Who was talking?

A soft chuckle reached his ears and he watched in amazement as the shadows around him coalesced into a tangible blob. Seconds later, it stretched until it faintly resembled a small terrier. Without warning, it sprang away and started trotting down the hallway, obviously intending for Harry to follow it.

Harry shrugged and did what he was told.

Both Scáth and shadow-dog passed through halls filled with paintings, passages that branched off in just about every direction and even when they passed through a sun-filled passageway, the shadow-dog did not disappear, it just continued on its merry way, tail wagging and paws clacking on the ground.

Before long, they came upon another great door. When Harry made to twist the knob, the shadow-dog whuffed and nudged The Boy-Who-Lived towards a smaller side door. Harry nodded gratefully and watched in amazement as the small dog dissolved and fled back into the small corners of the room.

Turning back to the knob in his hands, he twisted it open and stepped in.

The whole chamber was like a medieval king's throne room, and it probably was. At the far end, there was mosaic windows that extended from about a meter from the ground and extended upwards until they resembled tapered off points. There were black curtains that were tied to the side. Silhouetted by the great windows was the King himself, who sat on a raised dais and whose throne was a great work of art with shadowy creatures that frolicked on the surface and where terrible creatures chased each other across the wood. About a meter from both sides of the King were two chairs, on both sat two young men. Beyond them and on both sides of the room were two raised platforms on which high chairs were placed and men and women of regal posture and steely gaze sat upon, hands folded neatly to their sides.

Closest to where Harry was and with their backs facing him, were more chairs, they went row to row and many Scáth of all shapes and sizes sat upon them.

The hair on the back of Harry's neck froze as the King's clear voice rang through the room.

"Scáthlings- remain"

Harry quickly made his way to one of the empty chairs and sat himself down. The people around him didn't move or bat an eyelash. They sat comfortably, but with a sense of anticipation and self discipline. Harry followed their lead and sat up straight, lightly crossing his ankles and tipping his head towards the King.

"Forward"

Harry imitated the people around him movement for movement. They rose quietly and stepped with precise movements towards the large circular space surrounded by the seat they had vacated moments ago, the throne and the nobles that sat stiffly in their chairs. Harry controlled his steps to match theirs and almost missed it when they all swept down with identical bows.

This obviously something they had practiced many times.

Harry wondered about the gravity of this moment- but then they were falling to the ground and kneeling and Harry quickly copied them, feeling like a rather bad mimicker.

Something rustled above him and Harry knelt lower, until, like the others, his forehead was almost touching the cool marble.

The rustle reached a crescendo and then the thump of heavy boots could be felt, vibrating through the ground. Harry felt the boots take a couple of steps closer, stop and then continue on its way. It resembled a slow drum beat and Harry found it strangely calming. Harry smelt vanilla and oranges briefly before a large hand fell upon his head and he sagged slightly beneath the pressure.

Harry felt a warm feeling envelop him from head to toe and he let out a ragged breath.

He belonged.

He felt the Scáth part of him curl up within his mind and croon softly. Harry almost didn't realize when his throat started shaking and he made a sound not unlike the purring of a cat, it started from within the depths of his chest and flew outward

When Harry became aware he tried to stifle the sound- but it felt so right… he lifted the side of his head and peeked around his bangs. The others were making the sound too, he realized, and they all had faces full of blushing pride. Harry unclamped his lips and let the sounds flow freely.

Shortly after, the King raised a hand and all fell silent.

"Welcome", Northwood's voice boomed out.

"May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children's children.  
May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings.  
May you know nothing but happiness- From this day forward" He intoned.

"Aye" The hall echoed and fell silent.

Shortly after that, a regal looking woman with a severely tied back bun and white-blonde hair approached the sitting Scáth and raised a clipboard.

"Submissives- get up and follow me"

The woman turned around with a practiced step and walked off, not even sparing a glance to see whether they were following her or not. She was joined by two soft-looking woman at the door and they walked by her sides with their heads bowed.

Soft clinking was all that Harry heard until a voice said 'Rise' and then those remaining did.

Harry straightened his spine and casually ruffled his robes, to get the dust off himself.

He cast a look at the empty throne and looked on, unruffled, searching for the person who had spoken- it made sense that the King would not be taking on the matter of training young Dominants himself.

Harry heard the voice again before he saw the actual person and swiveled his head around to get a good look. He was immediately hit on the back of the head by a flat object and he quelled his desire to rub the back of his head when the same voice said, "No unnecessary movements, boy".

Harry ducked his head, chastised. The people around him sniggered quietly.

Slowly, three men walked into Harry field of vision, now that he was unable to turn his head to see. A tall and thin man was flanked by two similarly statured men. The thin man raked an eye over all of them and his eyebrow twitched.

"Welcome to the King of the Shadow's court- I am General Lionward's trusted vassal, Cecil Leradin and I'll be overlooking your training to become full-fledged members of this court and your training as soldiers for any potential wars that may occur…"

When nervous looks flitted about the room, Leradin's expression tightened and the man with his hair swept over one shoulder continued his speech.

"…as you all know, our most recent war with the Fae left both kingdoms with major damages to each side. Right now, we only have a shaky and unstable truce to keep our claws off of each other. We don't know when and how, but there will be wars and battles and we need you to be as prepared as possible"

The man paused.

"…We Scáth only total to about two thousand worldwide, with about one thousand six hundred in the United Kingdom- though we are considerably stronger, the Fey outweigh that with their sheer numbers worldwide-"

Leradin seemed to bristle which every word he spoke, but visibly calmed himself down before continuing in a much softer voice.

"You will have two sessions here each day and a total of six different sessions. They will teach you all that you will need to know"

The thin man pursed his lips and his two 'assistants' stepped forward and guided the new members of the court through one of the side doors and into the chamber beyond.

* * *

The people around him watched him curiously as he walked in the chamber. Probably because he was the only one who had been late for the obviously 'important' ceremony.

Harry hoped no one recognized him.

After all, he had been very careful about places which could potentially hold sneaky reporters- and had hidden his scar…his clothes were- unusual too.

Harry watched as one of the assistants started moving things around the room and the other one stood quietly in front of the assembled dominants.

"As today marks the first official Scáth training that you will perform under the guidance of the Council, we will only be going through procedures and no actual 'training' will be done"

The people around Harry looked unruffled, as if they'd already known all along. Harry shrugged and shifted on his feet, they'd been standing for a while now.

When the assistant had finished setting up; the other had picked up the 'roll' and introduced themselves as 'Amhain and Dha' before calling out each person to their respective places in the room.

"Potter-Black, Harry"

All the heads in the room simultaneously swiveled around until each and every eye was locked onto the flushed face of one Harry James Potter-Black.

Suddenly it was like his clothes were too tight and too heavy. They pressed down on him and weighed him down. His tail swished angrily and it was as if the amulet around his neck twisted and shrunk, choking his breath.

"Ahem. Potter-Black, _Harry" _

The slim, well-dressed man called Amhain said, with emphasis on Harry's name and with a particularly severe glare of icy eyes.

Harry stiffened his spine and lifted his shoulders. With impeccable grace and ignoring the stares, he strode to where Dha, the other assistant stood with a plethora of miscellaneous items.

Dha was just as thin as Leradin and Amhain, but he was succinctly different from the two. Where they had both had silk straight hair, Dha had dark, thick and curly locks which had been meticulously brushed to one side. Just as they had radiated 'well-bred', he did as well, but he was not without the subtle movements of someone who was born a hunter.

There was also the fact that Dha had a mocha colored skin.

Dha smoothly whipped out his (^%# $!) –wand and cast a charm on Harry that swiftly assembled a couple of instruments used for measuring and then the dark haired man cast another charm that hovered off of Harry's skin by a couple of inches.

"What's this?" Harry said, staring at the shimmering green walls around him.

Dha shot him a look and said, "No move', which was the first time he had heard the man speak.

Harry relaxed his body and let -whatever charm it was- do its job.

The pulsing green aura around him nudged Harry's robe and with deft fingers and he quickly unclasped the brooch holding his robes together and shrugged the heavy dark blue garment off. The piece of clothing was immediately expelled from within the spell and it sat, neatly folded, beside the instruments that Dha had left beside Harry.

Harry was then urged to take his shoes off and he did, untying the laces and swiftly chucking both shoes outside of the verdant spell, he then pinched each sock and yanked them off.

The aura hummed its approval and Harry watched silently as a tape measure floated up from the pile beside him and with a small _nick!_, pulled itself out of its coil and aligned itself parallel to Harry's body.

Harry sensed a faint hint of disapproval just before he felt a faint pressure on the top of his head. The pressure increased in small bursts until the green walls around him exuded annoyance and aggravation.

Holding in his giggles, Harry reached up and smoothed his hair back with both hands.

The greenness around him seemed to beam at him before Harry heard the slither of the tape and he was measured from head to toe. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see a quill scratching away at a small slip of paper.

Harry jumped a bit when he felt invisible hands grope his backside. Embarrassed, he wriggled a bit before the walls exuded impatience and The Boy-Who-Lived stilled, ducking his head.

Eventually, he felt his tail being grabbed and Harry turned around dutifully so that the tape measure could do its job. The quill started scratching again.

Then he felt the tape move away and Harry relaxed before he suddenly felt a jolt of pain from the tip of his tail.

Harry yowled and turned around sharply, to see a silvery hair float gently into a small container, before a similarly small lid screwed itself back on.

The green around him sank back a bit, obviously pleased with itself.

Harry grunted and grabbed his sensitive tail, smoothing over the hairs on the tip and passing over the pale crescent shaped scar.

_Ryr_, Harry thought fondly while brushing the mark with his thumb, remembering their first encounter. Harry grinned, he had a lot to talk about with the naiad today…maybe he could even convince him to go to the gathering that was going to be hosted next month…

Harry was pulled back into reality when he realized the invisible hands had grown impatient and were now tugging at his waistcoat and attempting to pull it off him.

Whoever had designed this spell had probably intended it to be unable to do much without consent.

Harry quickly unbuttoned the waistcoat and quickly did away with the navy undershirt.

Harry saw the quill freeze, then continue scratching but it wasn't before long that the Savior spied Dha marching towards him with a frown on his face.

The man walked so close that his face almost touched the shimmering walls around Harry.

Harry saw the dark haired man's lips move and heard the softly spoken words.

"Uno, dos, trés, cuatro, _cinco de ellos_"

Harry heard the barely reigned in gasp before Dha stepped back, face guarded.

Harry glanced down at his chest- he saw nothing of particular interest…oh, his Scáth runes. They glinted faint silver on his chest and he frowned at them.

There were five…what were so interesting about that?

Dha left, shooting a glance at Harry before hurrying to wherever it was he needed to go.

Harry looked down again just as intangible hands pulled at the bottom of his trousers. Harry blushed and understanding the gesture, he undid his belt and slipped his trousers off.

Instantly, a few more measuring tapes flew up from the pile and stretched themselves to wrap around Harry's waist and arms. Harry stood still for a moment and made a relieved sigh as they unwrapped themselves and the quill jotted down the numbers. Harry watched as the quill fell and the slip of paper flew off.

Suddenly, the walls around him turned blue and Amhain walked into the room.

The tall and thin man pulled his hair together with a small hair tie at the back and cleared his throat delicately.

"We will now require that all of you transform into your Scáth forms. You will have to exit the blue aura and re-enter after you have completed your transformation."

Harry chewed his lip and poked his foot out of the shimmering blue walls. Wriggling his toes, Harry gingerly stepped out of the spell.

He looked furtively around him and realized that all the dominants were already squinting their eyes shut and furiously trying to transform.

A roar sounded from Harry's left and he recoiled as the Scáth attacked the person nearest to them.

Harry shut his eyes and willed himself to change.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind he felt his body lengthen and change.

Harry barely felt the brush of his hair sweep past his shoulders and the claws in his feet lengthen and click against the ground when a heavy weight pummeled into him and the breath whooshed out of him.

Wha…?

Harry struggled and using his superior weight, flung the other dominant off of him. The other dominant growled and flung himself at Harry again, claws extended.

Harry kicked and scratched while looking side to side. Where were the assistants? Weren't they supposed to stop this?

Harry felt his blood freeze as he looked into the eyes of both Amhain and Dha. They were cold and emotionless, staring calculatingly at the writhing mass of bodies around them. They both had a blinding magical shield around them and none of the dominants went their way.

Why were they not stopping this?

Harry felt pain shoot like lightning across his face and he growled.

He felt a foreign emotion then.

It bubbled up from within him and wormed its way into his chest.

How dare they? These were all inferior. Pathetically inferior-

Harry raked his claws over the other's chest and the dominant fell back, gasping for air, blood leaking out of its wounds.

Something strange happened then.

The dominant that lay gasping on the floor breathed raggedly and hauled itself of the floor.

Harry growled. Why couldn't he stay down? That useless wretch-

The dominant roared, leaping onto Harry and digging its claws into the skin of Harry's back.

He didn't understand. Why?

The dominant grappled with Harry and he spied a torrent of emotions flicker over the other's face before Harry lashed his tail out and threw the other off of him.

He had seen desperation…but why.

He stared down at the defeated dominant. Why was he so desperate?

Harry crouched down near the conquered one and looked into his eyes.

Defeat Resignation.

Why?

Suddenly, the two assistants sprang to life and they walked towards the dominant lying on the ground. Harry felt the blinding shield touch his skin and he sprang backwards, hissing.

They knelt down and slung the guy over their shoulders and Harry heard them say something. Something that made his blood run cold.

"The first one of the day, huh?"

Harry felt his lips curl and he snarled at the two.

What did this mean?

The two strolled off, twisting around the carnage and fighting all around then.

Harry turned and froze.

A dominant was coming towards him, claws extended and tail whipping furiously.

It leaped.

* * *

Nathaniel: 14

Snape: 30

Charlie: 22

Colin & Dennis: 17

Colin: 2

* * *

Omg. That took me a long time to finish. The last 400 words were so easy though.

Ugh. Time to start chapter 15...

*Grabs PSVita.

Oh, BTW. THIS IS IMPORTANT.

The chances of me updating next week are 50/50. I'm finding it hard to sit down and write because SOOO MANY THINGS ARE GOING ON!

I mean seriously, It's the Christmas season guys. I need to go waste my money in the shopping centers with my mum and get blisters on my feet, ATTEND a lot of dinner parties, eat chocolate, wrap presents, pack for my trip to China and...SO MUCH MORE.


	15. The Battle for Supremacy

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the slightly crazy : NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here..

* * *

Sorry for the delay guys! URMG. I came back a couple of days ago and unpacked and etc. But somehow, during all this confusion, i forgot to send this chapter to my beta, it's still unbetaed, however, and a bit short, and a bit late.

Thank you to all the people that reviewed/favorited and all the people who are reading this chapter right now, even though I've been absent for such a long time. I had a great three weeks on holiday and hope you had a great time as well, even if all you did was stalk all the fanfiction websites, hoping for a juicy story :P

I also decided a bit of a change in writing style just for the first part of this story, it's nothing big, and not perfect. Just a little something i did to test my writing capabilities. I was alarmed to find that afterwards, when i switched back to my 'normal' tense and perspective, i found it much harder to censor my writing and had to go over the paragraphs repeatedly for a change in tense.

* * *

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the slightly crazy: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here..

Imagine a castle, a really big castle. It's a fairytale castle- with battlements and arched mosaic windows that stretch from floor to floor.

You stand there silently, as the light breeze rustles through the light green blades and small white flowers dot the hills around you.

Nothing but green meadows surround where you are and maybe you spy a forest of trees, but that is all far, far away.

You clutch your hat closer to your head as a strong wind blows and refocus on the castle.

It is really beautiful.

Silently, you walk towards it. Without knocking, you open the door. The place smells of old furniture and clean lilac. Carefully stepping through, you notice that it's rather quiet in there, nothing so much as moves and maybe you can hear the soft clang of china.

Leaving the door open, you step into the hallway. The door snaps shut and you freeze, a cold sweat building up.

If you didn't believe in it, you would have said that it was magic.

You can't go back now.

You keep walking, letting your feet take you where they may go. You pass through countless more hallways- some shrouded with darkness and some with clear glass roofs that allow bright sunlight in to chase away the shadows.

You keep walking and somehow you stumble upon a large double door. You pause and listen, but you hear nothing. Cautiously, you press a hand to the impressively carved door and hold your breath as the door opens.

You almost shrink away, but then you press an eye into the crack and you the people in there haven't seen or heard you.

Or they are acting...

Feeling a bit more daring, you push a little on the door to get clearer view. For a moment, you see nothing, only rows upon rows of chairs and a large circular space amid the chairs and pedestals- but then your eyes rove upwards and then there is a man, sitting with his hands gripping the polished wood of his mahogany throne.

Beside him, and kneeling down, is a slim man with dark curls- and he's talking quietly, but rapidly. Quiet enough for you to not hear a word.

You watch as the man with graying temples frowns and sighs loudly, loud enough to be hear yards away.

Suddenly, the dark haired man's gaze seems to pinpoint you and you flinch backwards. You turn around and hurry past the double doors, hoping that he won't start chasing after you.

Quickly, your feet thud on the richly colored carpets and the paintings around you turn into a blur. Panting, you realize that you are lost. Frightened of the unknown, you look uncertainly back at the way you came from.

_Perhaps?_

A cacophony of shrill shrieks and roars suddenly resound through the castle. The sounds rip into your ears and the shrieks ricochet around your skull.

A cold hand wraps around your ankle and you scream, horror filling your every pore. Then there are cold and shadowy appendages clamping over your lips and you are unable to do anything as darkness steals over you like a velvet glove. It gently covers you, your eyes, your mouth, your ears, and your nose.

Frustrated and annoyed, you shake your head.

You haven't had one of these crazy hallucinations in a while and had seriously thought that you had been recovering.

Sighing, you sit down on a large stone- barely a speck within the old castle ruins.

As soon as the other dominant's claws reached him, Harry flung his body forwards and knocked the other one off balance.

The dominant screeched loudly before Harry raked his claws down the other's chest, watching as spurts of bright red spilled out from the wounds. The other tried to get up but Harry wrapped his tail around its waist and the dominant yowled before going limp.

Harry bared his teeth in victory but then two other dominants were upon him, pressing him flat onto the ground under their combined weight. They tore at his flesh and restrained his arms and legs with their tails.

They ran their claws over the soft flesh near his neck, dug their nails into the tissue of his arms and clamped their teeth onto his collarbones.

Pain, bright and searing ripped through Harry's flesh, his mind blurred with the pain of the razor sharp claws that were digging into his flesh and Harry yowled, in pain.

Desperate, Harry whacked one of them, with his tail and the one he had hit growled at the other, evidently thinking that it had been its partner that had whacked him.

Harry didn't understand what was happening…but at least he would struggle till he gasped his last breath.

The Boy-Who-Lived was _not _going down without a fight.

Now that their attention was away from the Savior, Harry watched as one quickly took out the other with a swift kick to the head. Then, even as the other was cleaning out the blood underneath the nails, Harry leapt, taking it out easily as it was exhausted and bloody.

Quickly disposed of, Harry scanned the raucous room and ducked he narrowly missed the body of a Scáth chucked his way.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He had spied a Scáth who had itself into a corner, obviously waiting out the fight. Harry howled his way toward it and was rewarded with a shocked expression before Harry slashed and took him out.

The Boy-Who-Lived paused a moment and caught his breath, leaning against the corner of the chamber.

There were so many. There was no way that he was going to be able to take them all out.

Harry swished his shaggy head from side to side (woof!).

Using the corner as a stake out seemed like a pretty good idea. It was protected from behind and partially blocked attacks from the side as well.

He wasn't going to relinquish this advantageous position any time soon.

Harry would let _them _come to _him._

And come to him they did.

Harry fought with tooth and nail, with tail and limb, until finally, the crimson around him finally started to fade and the wails began to cease. The exhausted Scáth slumped against the wall exhausted. Shaking, Harry inspected his body.

Small teeth wounds dotted his neck, shallow enough to not penetrate the arteries but deep enough to bleed. His torso had numerous bruises where the opponents had grabbed him too tightly and large gashes where they had gored him with their knife-sharp claws. They were still dripping in blood, Harry noted in bitter fascination.

Then he scoffed but choked when he coughed up blood and spittle.

His venom had been stronger, Harry thought wryly as he wiped the corner of his mouth. The venom from the claws of these dominants weren't strong enough to keep his wounds open forever; some of the gashes were already clotting up.

Harry smirked as a group of battered dominants slunk his way and growled warningly at him.

He probably had only one more fight in him.

Suddenly, one of them squealed and a golden blur descended on them. The stranger leapt lithely onto their backs and swung its arms at their backs.

For a while, Harry could only see blood and bone; could only hear screams of pain and anguish.

The smart bugger had probably waited this long just to take out the remaining, high-leveled dregs.

Harry bared his teeth and felt as answering rush from within his blood, filling him, pushing him up and numbing the pain.

The few remaining stragglers shrank back, eyeing the golden one warily and snapping their jaws. The golden one snarled back, as if in answer and strut forward, flipping its tail arrogantly.

A brawny Scáth lashed out its tail and growled back at the golden haired Scáth and roared in a show of power. The golden one grinned toothily and snapped its jaws.

Seconds later, the assistants were erecting their shield over its prone form.

The one with the golden mane flicked its tail lazily as Dha and Amhain walked back to their station, with another bleeding body to add to their collection.

The gold Scáth flicked its tail out tauntingly and quickly jabbed its claws into the next opponent.

Harry shook his head slightly to dislodge the noise filling up his brain and assessed his situation.

His leg felt stiff, his fur was sticky with his own blood. He had at least one broken rib and several deep gashes that were quickly draining away the blood from his body. One eye was drooping slightly because of a heavy fist from one of the other dominants he had been fighting and the only reason he could stand up was that the gold-colored Scáth had taken all the attention away from him.

But even Harry couldn't stop the low rumble that vibrated past his lips when the golden one looked at him and seemed to deem him below his notice.

Harry could feel the faint desperation bubbling from within him now- the emotion that had been shining out of every single one of those he had defeated.

Harry wrapped his tail around himself and let the silver tuft rest assuringly on his cheek. Wincing in pain, he dissolved into the shadows in the corners of the room, waiting for the other Scáth to take out the competition.

With precise and deadly movements, the foes in the room fell and quickly and the remaining Scáth flicked its blonde curtain over its shoulder with bloody fingers, leaving smears of red on the otherwise flawless gold.

Quickly, it sauntered up to the two assistants, obviously expecting something. Amhain shook his head quickly, bangs swishing around his face. Muttering quietly he pointed to the corner of the room, where Harry was standing, clutching his gaping wounds- trying to get them to clot faster.

The golden one growled and shot an accusatory look towards Harry's direction.

Harry ran his ivory tongue over his lips, tasting blood. Without wincing, Harry moved his aching legs and his tail whipped around, writhing in the air like a wary snake.

The golden one stopped in front of him, tail still and unmoving, face betraying no emotions.

Harry furtively scanned the area around him, looking for an advantage. There was nothing, nothing he can use, only open space and the few shimmering blue auras that indicated the spells that had been cast to measure each 'Scáthling'.

There are the measuring tools, and the pointy things that he had been poked and prodded with.

Without a second glance, Harry took off, heart thudding in his ears as his feet flew across the room. He could hear the other, not far behind him, chasing him down.

Like an eagle, Harry swiped a pair of scissors, tweezers and a glass case which held a fine red hair off of the table. Barely pausing, Harry looked behind him.

The golden Scáth was only a couple of meters behind Harry, but that was enough. The Savior broke the glass tube with his newfound strength and with the same amount of force, chucked both halves of the glass at the pursuing Scáth.

The first one was dodged quickly with fast feet, but the second one came too quickly and it grazed the skin on its shoulder.

Harry paused to grab another glass case and in those precious moments, the other Scáth caught up by another few centimeters; which was probably why it wasn't chucking random projectiles at Harry as well.

Like before, Harry broke the glass and both pieces hurtled towards the pursuer, but unlike before, the Scáth emerged completely unharmed, a smirk plastered over its features.

Without warning, Harry threw the scissors and tweezers and is rewarded with a dull moan. Sparing a glance behind him, he saw that the scissors had lodged themselves into the flesh right above the collar bone; the tweezers had similarly embedded themselves into the soft flesh of the Scáth's hand.

Harry had almost reached the end of the room now, and he was panicking. If he turned around to run the circumference of the room, the golden Scáth would catch him easily, there was no ammunition this close to the end of the room, and Harry had already milked the other stations of glass cases and tweezers, and scissors.

Harry was tired.

He had only managed to harm the other Scáth twice more with scissors and glass before the other one had grown wiser.

-and he had nowhere else to run.

Harry was gasping when he touched the wall, everything ached, and everything burned. If anything, his gaping wounds were getting worse. The cuts only getting more agitated as Harry pumped his legs, gasped for breath.

Harry twisted all his straining muscles and turned. He bared his claws and the golden Scáth stopped in its pursuit of Harry, grinning, knowing that the silver-mane Scáth before it had nowhere to run.

Harry snarled at the other, hair flying wildly as spittle escaped from his teeth.  
The golden haired Scáth did not growl though, even as Harry yowled like a cat whose tail had been driven over by a ten ton train. The other Scáth advanced slowly, tail wavering in the air and placing its feet carefully upon the marble flooring.  
Harry shivered and battled his tumultuous desire to flee. This would only result in getting his head ripped off. He wrapped his tail around himself, its furry tip brushing the side of his face assuringly.

Although with the way that the assistants were, he'd probably not die.

Just feel excruciating pains for…a while.

The Scáth in front of the Boy-Who-Lived seemed to study him for a minute, its golden orbs flickering down to his chest. The golden pupils sharpened. Prowling again, the Scáth growled menacingly before roaring.

A beast made of shadows- unlike anything he'd ever seen before, leapt from beneath the ground and it hissed, its shadowy limbs flowing in indistinct shapes around its torso.

Its writhing black coils grabbed The Savior around the neck and he choked, wheezing as the air was squeezed out of his lungs.

The golden one watched in silence, waiting for the moment the fight would end.  
Harry feels his limbs grow heavier- the blood seeping out of his wounds, the air seeping out of his lungs… the magic seeping out of his every pore.  
The shadow beast- for there is no other word- gnashes its teeth before finally, finally… Harry can't feel, can't think and can't move.

Harry woke up feeling strangely stiff. If he had been feeling more alert, he would have said out loud to himself:

"How many times have I woken in the infirmary now?"

Except this time, Harry was not by himself.

Groaning, The Boy-Who-Lived pushed himself up using his arms and wind milled his tail to get rid of any cricks that may have appeared because of lying on the hard ground.

Around him, was every single Scáth that he had defeated and had been defeated by others.

Groaning like him, they all began to sit up and scratch their backs. Sharp eyes swept nervously over each other; their every feature betraying their emotions.  
Twitching tails, stiff shoulders, shaking hands, flickering eyes; Harry brushed his gaze over the entire room, hiding himself behind the silver strands of his hair.

Suddenly, the golden one entered along with the two assistants and all the young Scáth in the room froze. Everything went still.

Harry bared his fangs and his lower chest rumbled quietly. No one noticed.

The golden-maned Scáth twisted his lips to the side, smiling.

Several of the Scáth in the room recoiled and shrank back, snarling under their breaths. Some sat silently and watched the golden one with unblinking eyes.  
Harry narrowed his gaze and focused his being on the smirking, pompous Scáth in front of them, his tail swished silently on the ground and the Saviour dug his claws into the soft wood of the infirmary floor (There weren't enough beds. Although you would assume that after years and years of training injury, someone, would be smart enough to expand the infirmary)

The assistants coughed politely and the golden one stepped back, just before locking eyes with Harry. The Saviour felt something akin to his hackles rise and he glared back, still chafing at the recent loss.

Amhain delicately brushed his bangs back and stared at the back wall.

"Young Master Lewis William Northwode, second in line to the throne, tamer of the Shadow Beast, Nifilim, now officially outranks all of you in this room. Harry James Potter-Black has risen to the rank of Second-in-Command"

Amhain stepped back and Dha, whose dark gaze was unwavering, briskly broke everyone into groups, snarling when a few refused to move.  
At last there were a few clusters of people ranging in size and density- and Harry, standing all by himself. On his right, there were two other Scáth. They gazed calmly back at him and the ones in the group furthest from him twitched nervously, one of them caught his eye

_Second-in-Command?_

The proverbial light bulb went off inside Harry's head and as his gaze travelled over the face, he recognised the first Scáth he had taken out.

_Beaten_

The Scáth that had looked up at him with pleading desperate eyes- the one that had kept getting back up no matter how many times Harry slammed him into the ground.

The other Scáth caught him looking and growled quietly while its tail flickered nervously back and forth.

A whirlwind of possibilities flashed through his mind and Harry gasped, his legs felt like they'd fall out from beneath him. But he didn't fall.

What had he done?

The Saviour's silver hair bristled, the short hairs on the nape of his neck became stiff.

…That had been…a fucking RANKING contest.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry turned his head to avoid the gazes of those in the last group.

If he had known what the fight was for… he wouldn't have tried so hard.

Dha and Amhain walked towards Northwode Jr. The golden Scáth swished its tail before stilling. Black melted into pink skin and hair receded into the scalp, nails withdrew themselves into flesh and with some charm, all clothes reappeared. Faintly, Harry could remember Northwode Jr. as one of the young men sitting next to the throne. Quietly, the young man knelt and Amhain passed a hand over the king-ling's collarbone. A brief glow surrounded the two and Dha withdrew his notepad and jotted something down.

Then, the two assistants stepped back respectfully. Northwode Jr. nodded his head and stood up. The king-ling basked in the moment and then turned his head to face Harry.

He smirked, white teeth flashing in the light.

The silver-haired Scáth took a moment to study the other.

Dressed in resplendent ceremonial robes, the other was of average height for a Scáth, but still just a little bit shorter than Harry himself. The contours of the face were familiar to those of the King, but his hair was a brilliant gold, and fell upon his face and neck in waves and ringlets. The eyes were just as sharp as his father's and were a faded forget-me-not flower pigment.

A lightning strike of pain later, his legs really did fall from beneath him and his sight blurred until the only clear thing in the room was the king-ling. Whose cloudy blue eyes were staring at him; compelling him, with a soft smile twisting the lips.

"My first and strongest vassal" the man whispered, eyes never leaving Harry's pained gaze.

"Harry"

Suddenly, his smile failed as his gaze dropped to the Saviour's chest, where Harry's silver hair hid most from the king-ling's sight and pooled to the ground where he was kneeling.

Northwode Jr. shot a look at both assistants before he carefully stepped forward and lay a warm palm on Harry collarbone. Softly, he brushed aside Harry's hair.

"Ah" he whispered, eyes narrowing, eyebrows lifting.

Without so much as a sound, he stepped back again, golden hair swishing as both assistants knelt to Harry's level. The assistant lifted his velvet clad arm and did not look at Harry as he passed a cold hand over his collarbone.

Harry felt the heavy pressure ease slightly and was able to stand up by gritting his teeth, but just barely. Both lids slightly closed, he shot a glare towards the king-ling.  
I'm not your bitch, he thought.

Northwode Jr.'s face only seemed to grow more gleeful and yet worried at the same time.

Harry shrank back to his previous place and watched as all the rest of the Scáth went forward and knelt down in front of the two assistants, fingering the small mark on his own collarbone.

Soon after, when all had been cowed into submissiveness, the General's vassal, Cecil Leradin came to collect his two assistants. With a dismissive gesture, he swept all out of the room.

* * *

Updated to the beta-ed version!

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: HARRY RETURNS TO HOGWARTS AND DRACO...?**


	16. Turbulent Passion

**_ALERT ALERT ALERT!_**

**I am sooo sorry guys. I just rechecked every single site that has a poll on it and I realized that what I wrote on the last chapter was WRONG. I have now changed the previous chapter and now I must announce:**

**THE POLL HAS NOT FINISHED!**

**I will tell you why:**

**Snape: 38**

**Charlie: 22**

**Collin/Dennis: 22**

**Colin: 27**

**Nathaniel: 28**

**OMFG, how did I miss that? End of poll will be next chapter- so people who haven't voted; THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!**

* * *

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the slightly crazy and lazy: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here…

* * *

**Running out of Author's note space, so I'll only answer a few today...**

**Qwinn:** I really liked your review, it was very uplifting. Those are very good questions and I'll try to answer them to the best of my abilities.

, Ryr and Sebastian were put aside because I already had 'plans' for them, they are either mates of important to the progress of the main plotline in this story. I did put this alert above the first 'poll' chapter.

that scene, everything 'happened' very fast, so I'm not surprised that people would be confused. Harry saw the submissive in danger and released a 'warning call' to gather all submissives to him that are potential mates (to protect them). So in that part, all the people there (except maybe the Creevey brothers) realised at that point that they were somehow 'potential' mates for Harry.

you miss the point where that bully was holding Nathaniel as a hostage and threatening him wand to neck? And then after that I'm pretty sure the bad guy fired off a spell. Even if he wasn't harmed terribly, that still would have been a pretty traumatic experience.

4.I'm pretty sure that Madam Pomfrey was worried, but remember that this was in the dead of the night, neither the guys fooling around with their girlfriends nor Harry (who just met Ryr) and Nathaniel were supposed to be out and about so late at night.

So, I hope that clears things up- I think maybe you read too fast, ahahah. Like me. I always miss things the first time I read something through. Anyway, heres the next chapter! And I'm sorry to everyone for being a week and a day late. XD

**SP777:** Wow… that's pretty… From no slash, to slash- to 3plus O.O .

I'm glad you think Harry is badass. My friend read some of the action sequences and he thought it was pretty badass too. Though of course I didn't tell him what it was from…ahaha

Thank you for such a long review and for telling me that you've been looking out for this fic! It makes me sooo happy!

**Everyone:** Thanks to everyone who gave me honest reviews on what they thought and kept nagging me to update, it really helped!

* * *

The amber light from the streetlamps cast dark shadows all over Hogsmeade and all was quiet except for the rowdy bar and the occasional dinner party held within doors. Of course, there are always exceptions and the drunken man with the empty beer bottle was an example of that. The slurred version of "The Witch is Dead" that was pitched through resembled the actual song just as much as a pea would resemble, let's say, a whale. Nada

Well, back to the description of an ordinary Hogsmeade night.

Like it always did, a black cat sat upon the rooftop of a nondescript house, eyes unblinking and unmoving. Its fur was much like the night sky, and the night sky was a satin cloth unto which millions of diamonds had been scattered carelessly by an infant hand; though it was much too cloudy to see single bloody star.

Cough.

One of the streetlamps stuttered and immediately, a night watchman sent a Patronus to the man who fixed such things. Through the winking light, a tall figure in flowing robes exited through a tattered door and quickly made its way through the cobbled pathways.

* * *

Harry had only one thought as the portkey whisked him back to familiar places.

He was really, really glad.

The sickening motion stopped and Harry's limbs fell into an ungainly heap. Gingerly rubbing the back of his head, he pushed himself up and made his way out of yet another mysterious, unknown, deserted shop. How many of those _are _there, anyway?

But…he was really glad to be back in Hogsmeade.

The night air was lukewarm and Harry looked up at the sky, wanting to find his godfather's constellation. No luck, Harry frowned at the clouds.

Was a storm coming?

A bit too warm, he took off his robes and grey waistcoat, until he was only clad in his navy undershirt with the sleeves rolled up and the first three buttons undone.

In a few minutes, Harry spied the tree that indicated the beginning of the Hogwart's wards and he smiled.

He was really, really, _really _glad to be back home.

Morbidly, images of flashing teeth, of blood seeping from open wounds and claws digging into flesh rattled through his mind.

* * *

Draco Abraxas Malfoy had terrible, horrific dreams that night. The humid night air didn't help any, as it filtered through the draperies that hung over the large window in his dorm. The dreams were particularly loud as well, bugger them, and Draco was twisting in his thin sheets, his fingers scrabbling to gain hold of the mattress as his face scrunched up.

They were terrible dreams mainly because, they featured a particular…

Boy

The dreams that night began innocently, or as innocently wet dreams could be.

Draco wrapped his arms around the slim figure below him, skin tingling warmly as his fingertips trailed over the silky flesh of the person- the male, beneath him. His naughty fingers trailed lower and then they were touching swollen heated flesh. As his lover mewled prettily, he thrust his cock his deeper into the slick ring of flesh and grabbed the male by the hair, fingers slipping through a wild, tousled mane. He moaned and thrust as sparks flew behind his eyelids and he was slipping deeper, deeper-

And suddenly all the sensation was brutally ripped from him. Draco floated in blackness for moments before feeling was returned to him in small quantities.

He was aware of his position first, of soft sheets against his backside. He was naked and lying on a bed. Slowly, his sense of smell was returned and a soft summer scent caressed his nose. Then, abruptly, touch returned and he was still touching wild, tousled hair. The thick strands curled around his fingers. The cool tufts comforted him and Draco almost relaxed into the dream- but then a hot tongue was trailing up the pale column of his neck and all his nerve endings burst into flame. Wriggling madly, Draco tried to move, tried to see, but he just couldn't. The darkness against his eyes was too strong.

The tip of the tongue flattened and the hot appendage was swiping the sensitive place just under the chin. Draco was grabbing the hair with his entire life by then, no thought of protest, even as his voice was returned. The tongue continued to trail upwards and suddenly he was aware of a heavy body above his, a strong masculine scent filling his nostrils and the feel of skin against skin as their taut stomachs lay against each other. Draco arched up into the wonderful pleasure and his world exploded every single strand of his being focused on the wetness against his lips and each slide that rubbed the hardness beneath their waists together. The pressure against his lips grew hotter and Draco gasped. The moment his lips opened, the slick appendage slipped through soft lips and Draco was utterly lost as their tongues and lips moved heatedly against and in and around each other. His eyelids lightened and Draco rubbed harder against the other male, eliciting keening sounds from both of them before he slitted his eyes open.

His questing eyes met wild black hair which curled damply against a sweaty forehead before sloping down into lust darkened green eyes.

_Bloody hell_

Draco had been burning, writhing in pleasure and lost in his erotic dream and now it felt like someone had blatantly dumped a whole bucketful of cold water all over his body - and some ice too.

Harry _bloody _Potter

The boy above him lifted one of his arms and twined his ridiculously long fingers with Draco's and the pale blond boy continued to twitch uncontrollably in pleasure as those lips played with his earlobe and that tongue caressed the delicate shell of his ear.

Why? _Why!?_

Wet lips moved against his earlobe and something was breathed hotly into his ear, tickling the small hairs within. Draco came from that alone, his body was shuddering and toes curling as his cock erupted onto that wonderfully tanned stomach.

Only seconds later, did Draco realize what had been whispered in passion.

"Malfoy"

* * *

Harry woke blearily to the sound of slamming windows. Someone shouted- Ron, probably, and heavy curtains were drawn over grey, covering the rumbling sky and stowing away the sight of raindrops the size of marbles. He rolled over, only to find that a lot of things were poking into him uncomfortably. The sound of thunder rattled the windowpanes and shrieking could be heard from as far as the girl's dormitory. Harry thumped his pillow and then stuck a hand under his back to withdraw the pair of shoes he had tossed carelessly onto the bed- _and_ he was still wearing last night's clothes, which meant his hard leather belt had slipped up and was now digging into his tail.

Harry sighed and wriggled, pulling the belt off and letting his tail flick around the soft sheets of his bed, getting the kinks out of it.

* * *

Harry had known that it wouldn't be a good day, not with all the thunder and rain- not with yesterday's confusion and battle for dominancy still fresh in his mind; The _pain, _still fresh in his mind. But surprisingly, it was even worse. The whole dorm of Gryffindors became rather like a bunch of wet socks, limp and unappealing.

And then, as the final straw, the Gryffindor team Quidditch tryouts had been cancelled and postponed till Wednesday because of soggy field conditions- and that led to more grumpiness all around.

* * *

Harry sighed into his breakfast and outside, lightning rolled across the sky. Hermione's hair was in worse condition than usual and so was her temper. Ron was…well, Ron, but more depressed since he had been told no one in the eighth year could try out for Quidditch, never mind that it had been cancelled today, anyway.

"I can't believe it" Ron moaned into his soggy oatmeal. "I mean, we're still here aren't we!?"

Hermione shot an annoyed look at the dishevelled red hair, "Ron! I can't believe your still on about that! We have Charms _homework _due tomorrow!"

Harry snorted his pumpkin juice and groaned. "Late night homework, _great_"

Hermione rolled her eyes and scooped some oatmeal into her spoon. She was about to put it in her mouth but then put the silverware down gently into her bowl and coughed, her eyes flickering to Harry's face.

"Harry…" She began, in her diplomatic voice.

The Boy-Who-Lived bit into a slice of toast, chewing slowly.

"Yersh?"

As if sensing the mood, Ron sat up a bit, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

"I know you had a big day yesterday-"

Ron snorted.

"-but I know you came back just after dinner, I _saw_ you… But _Ron_ says that he couldn't find you-"

Harry shot Ron a dirty look. The redhead furrowed his brows and shrugged.

"-where were you Harry? I'm worried- _we're _worried. You're always disappearing out of the blue..."

Harry scowled into his toast and brushed away a strand of annoying hair from his face. He'd visited Ryr again, like he'd done nightly since he'd met him. It was relaxing, frankly, and the naiad knew nothing about _Harry._

Ryr was also just, he was-

"Harry?"

"I…go for i_ntrospective_ walks" Harry added, for the sole benefit of Ron.

Ron frowned, "Wha?"

Hermione giggled and Ron shot her a bewildered look, Hermione giggled again and patted Ron lightly on the cheek. The redhead blushed and ducked into his oatmeal.

"I _know _what intro-spec-tive means…" he muttered, the red spreading to his neck.

Harry chuckled deeply and continued, "I just go for walks, 'Mione."

Hermione frowned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

The Boy-Who-Lived rested his chin on his knuckles.

"Sometimes, I feel like everything was only yesterday…Sirius, Remus, and Tonks… All those people, all those Aurors… Moody…_"_

"It's okay, Harry… none of that was your fault. Everything had to be that way- otherwise there wouldn't have been peace today. That's all that matters"

Harry started guiltily at the sound of Ron's voice. And the rare moments of philosophy that sometimes spouted from the mouth of his long-time friend.

"Yeah, I guess"

One of the things Harry hated most in this world was lying to his friends. He loved them both dearly and it ached to have to lie, to have to keep secrets.

He lowered his eyelashes to the table and grimaced.

The tables cleared and all three got up and went to their classes.

* * *

Defence Against the Dark Arts were the first time Harry had to deal with Malfoy that day. Snape was being his usual self again- maybe perhaps just a tad edgier, glaring at Harry with particular force when he thought that the Saviour wasn't watching.

Harry couldn't for the life of him _not _realise that his Professor was staring…glaring?

Not when it felt like someone was pressing two burning coals onto his back. Harry felt slightly singed.

If Snape was acting strange, Draco was acting stranger. All twitchy and bothered.

_Yesterday-_

Grimacing and furtively wiping a hand over his mouth, Harry wrinkled his nose at his cauldron, desperately trying to act normal. God, he had swapped saliva with the bloody ferret.

Quickly reading through the list of spells that he was expected to put into use today, Harry yelped as a misfired flame spell from Neville's side lit his instruction booklet. Quickly, he performed _aguamenti, _but it was too late and the paper was already beyond legible.

Harry grimaced, he wouldn't be able to borrow anyone else's, they all had different weaknesses and strengths, after all. Mouthing one of the spells he thought he had glimpsed before the paper was burnt, Harry pointed his wand towards Neville.

A foul sulphur smelling light hurtled towards a petrified Neville, who reacted with a slightly late shielding charm. A bright yellow mist surrounded the boy, before it all condensed and what was left was a splotchy mess on the ground that smelled like rotten eggs and milk. Neville wiped his brow, glad to not have any actually _on _him.

Snape appeared, ghosting silently behind Neville and Harry, a grimace plastered on his face as he stared at them- at _Harry- _and spoke, his lips pressed thinly together.

"Mr. Longbottom…Mr…_Potter. _It seems that saving the Wizarding world from peril hasn't taught you to…_pay attention._" He glared at Harry.

The thin, sallow man swished his wand and the mess disappeared, but it didn't seem like the Professor was going to give Harry a new list of spells and Harry had to spend the rest of his lesson ignoring the snickers from the Slytherin table and staring a hole into his Professor's back; Stupid, greasy, hook-nosed _bastard._

At the end of the lesson, and as the rest of the students were already making their way to their next class, Snape slitted his eyes at Harry and spoke loudly, though they were the only ones still in the room.

"Thirty points off Gryffindor"

Harry turned heel and stormed out the Defence classroom.

The black haired man within the room smirked.

Bloody buggering hell! _Thirty points!_

What had he ever done to Snape?

Angrily, Harry stalked down the corridor, growling. Thirty!

Thirty house points!

As the fuming Boy-Who-Lived turned the corner the world around him tumbled and the colours whirled madly together. His brain didn't even realise what had happened when he heard a muted _crack!_

A lightning bolt of pain later and Harry was writhing in agony, his palms pressed against his face, smothering the source of the hurt, staining his hands with blood.

Staggering upright, Harry pressed a palm against the wall to steady him. As he did, the small pool of blood he had been cupping within his palm smeared against the stone walls.

Slowly, like a lion, he directed his glare to the place where he had tripped over. _Nothing_, why? Stilling his breath, he cast his eyes all over the place.

_Ah_

Very faintly, and only through the use of his inherited Scáth senses, he could hear the faint whooshing of air as someone- more than one person breathe, he could hear the light thrumming of an overexcited pulse.

He grabbed his wand roughly and yanked it out of his pocket, pointing it directly at the space.

The grey stone quivered and Harry pointed his wand, extending a long arm through the long black drapes of his robes.

Narrowing his eyes, he spoke.

"_Finite incantatem_"

Harry watched in silence as the disillusionment charm faded.

* * *

As soon as Draco left the classroom, he cast the disillusionment charm on both Crabbe and Goyle. Grabbing Goyle by the lapels, he pulled the stocky boy towards him. The lips meshed together and Draco pushed the other against the wall.

Through the raging bloodlust, and the coppery taste of blood on his tongue, Draco cursed Potter. Cursed the ridiculous dream he had had last night. Cursed the fact that he could almost remember the feel of tangled hair between his fingers and the feel Potter's breath on his ear.

Growling, Draco dug his teeth into the chapped lips below him and hooked his fingers into the cool cloth of Goyle's robes. Suddenly, the boy rocked into him and let out a quiet huff against Draco's lips. Crabbe had joined the fray.

Ignoring him, Draco traced his lips with his tongue, tasting the tangy blood from Goyle's lips. It wasn't enough, not by far. Growling in frustration, he attacked the column of Goyle's neck, nestling his head in the crook of the neck and suckling all the delicate places. Goyle let out a breathy moan and trembled as Crabbe rutted from behind.

Loud stomping broke through the sounds of teenage foolery and Draco, with his slightly enhanced senses, lifted his head from Goyle neck. Seeing Potter, he froze and snaked his hands around both Crabbe and Goyle, to keep them still.

But in an act of desperation, Crabbe crushed his erection into Goyle's behind and trembled silently as he came within his trousers.

Draco watched, shivering, as the Golden Boy spied the trembling that must have blown the disillusionment charm.

Crabbe's eyes widened as he came out of his post-orgasmic haze and his face paled as the tip of Potter's wand pointed threateningly at his face.

* * *

Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. Sharp claws raked the inside of his chest as he gazed disbelieving at the three people in front of him. Shock turned into disgust as he saw the look of post-coital bliss on Crabbe's ugly mug. Sneering, he turned his gaze to the taller one, Goyle. A red blush decorated his face and a very obvious lump strained at the front of his trousers.

_Utterly . . . Disgusting _

Harry snarled.

_Ugly brutes_

How dare-

Harry caught himself in time. His gaze travelled over Goyle's bruised neck, his bitten and bleeding lips. Almost reluctantly, he turned the full force of his gaze at the tallest, the white-blonde one. Draco Malfoy.

Almost immediately, his eyes zeroed in on the blonde's cherry red lips. _Blood_

The Saviour's eyes flicker between the two boys.

A shriek resounded in Harry's ears and he barely even registered as Crabbe flung himself away from the wall and took off down the corridor.

To hide like the coward he was, probably.

Malfoy smirked and lazily licked the blood off his lips.

Harry's own blood boiled. But why was he like this? Why did he do things like this?

Why had he kissed Malfoy? So what if the hormones in the air had driven him crazy? Why had he…?

Deftly, Harry cursed Goyle, watching as boils spread up over his neck. Coldly, he stunned him as well and left the stocky boy shuddering on the ground, moaning in agony.

Grinning in fiendish delight, he turned to Malfoy. For a second, hot rage blinded him and he could barely breath- he gasped for breath and he could barely breathe through the blood clotting up in his nose. But then the anger cooled, but still, it simmered brightly.

"I always knew Slytherins were sluts" He hissed, narrowing his eyes.

There was hurt in the pureblood's eyes. And the sadistic part of Harry relished it.

The still-red mouth curved upwards and Malfoy spoke, tugging at his collar.

"Are you naturally this idiotic, Potter?" The grey-eyed boy smoothed his shirt down.

"Or do you practice?"

Shooting an aborted stinging hex towards Malfoy, Harry snarled.

"Have your insults gotten _that _weak, Malfoy? Your father will be hearing about this, and I don't think he'll be too happy."

Draco flinched and growled, "You know where he is Potter. Despite the fact that you also bloody know that he never participated in the Final Battle"

Harry fixed his gaze on the arrogant prat, his eyes trailing downwards. With grim satisfaction, Harry noticed that the Malfoy scion didn't sport a lump in the front of his trousers.

Suddenly, a burst of white light covered his arm and Harry dropped to the ground, nursing his wrist; the stinging hex. Wordless- and powerful, Harry noticed, as the flesh began to swell. Quickly, he tipped his wand upwards and managed to set Malfoy's robes alight.

The blonde boy whimpered and began to incant the _aguamenti _spell. Goyle, who seems to have calmed down (and popped all his boils) made a dash for it, tossing one last look over his shoulder.

Harry grinned and taunted Malfoy, "They all leave you, Malfoy. What _are_ you going to do?"

A burst of orange scissored its way through the air before Malfoy made a dash for it, with Harry right on his heels. Orange scent filled his nose and Harry sneezed, his eyes watering.

"_Aeratulus"_

The curtain of orange was softly blown away and Harry shot a bat-bogey hex towards the fleeing Malfoy.

In front of him, the blonde sent two successive _flipendo _spells. The second one hit Harry square in the chest, but not before he got Malfoy with a well-aimed _confundus._

The Boy-Who-Lived slammed into the wall behind him and felt the soft bones in his tail snap and crack. His vision swam and all he could do was retch all over the floor in front of him. When his vision cleared, he wiped his mouth with the corner of his sleeve.

Stumbling, he made his way to where Malfoy was leaning against the wall, chewing his lips softly.

The boy seemed to frown at the taste, and raised his fingers to his lips. When red came off, he looked startled, and began to rub it off hastily.

When Harry stood before him, Malfoy's frame tensed and he gazed upon Harry in confusion before smirking lightly,

"What, Potter? Have a little run in with one of _Hagrid's _little beasties?"

With a growl, Harry socked the pureblood and watched in satisfaction as some of the dried blood from his fist smeared onto the ferret's pale face.

"_What, _Malfoy?" He mocked as his fingers crept towards the pale column of a throat.

"Have a run in with one of _Gryffindor's _little beasties?"

Slowly, Harry caressed the delicate neck before he tightened his hold and watched as the white-blonde hair tossed back and forth as Malfoy's slender fingers scrabbled for hold on the fingers in an iron cuff around his neck.

With a grunt, Malfoy heaved himself backward in a surprising show of strength and twisted so that when he flung himself at the wall, Harry was knocked into the stone also. His breath was knocked out of him for a moment but he still held on. Malfoy did it again and Harry grunted.

"One show pony, eh, Malfoy?"

The blonde's face darkened before he charged into the wall again- but this time, Harry faced the full brunt of it alone. He felt one of his ribs crack and he tightened his hold on the pureblood's neck. Malfoy's face went red, then purple and Harry roared in victory as-

Malfoy was ripped from him.

What the fuck?

Harry spun around, only to get a face full of growling Snape. The other's wand was pointed threateningly at the tip of the Saviour's chin.

Unwavering, even in the face of a raging Boy-Who-Lived, Snape stood his ground and gazed at Harry with unblinking black eyes, no emotion displayed except for quietly seething anger.

"Drop your wand, _Potter"_

Harry didn't move, his face frozen into an expression of distaste.

"_I said… _drop your_ wand, Potter!" _The sallow faced man growled.

Harry loosened the grip of his right hand slightly and the thrumming wand fell to the ground, clinking a few times before it rolled to a rest.

Swiftly, Snape immobilized both boys and using his magic, he sailed both of them through the air. Harry and Malfoy sneered at each other from within their respective bubbles.

As they rounded the corner, the teacher and his two disobedient pupils ran into a severe woman with a tightly coiled bun and next to her, fidgeting, was a rather dishevelled Goyle. McGonagall shrieked in horror as she saw the extensive damage to both boys and squawked at Snape, asking what happened, why it happened, and turning her stern eyes upon both her students, she asked them why they were _always _fighting? Why couldn't they just get along?

Harry sneaked a look at Malfoy's horribly blotched face and the dark purple bruises which outlined Harry's hands perfectly… and felt a bit sorry-

-If only for a moment.

* * *

Please review XD


	17. Red Lipstick

It got a few mixed reviews about the previous chapter- but I felt that it was fair of the readers to feel that way, some were about how they got more confused =.=' and some were about how lethal and uncaring Harry was.

But most of my reviews were really supportive and a few people told me that they don't usually read dom Harry fics- but that they liked my story. So that's good :P

As for the poll, it is completed and I'm sure no one expected this outcome XD

It's probably due to the astounding amount of votes this poll received on the 29th of Jan…

Snape: 38

Charlie: 24

Colin/Dennis: 24

Colin: 30

Nathaniel: 31

O.O WOW… this combination is really weird and I don't know how I'm going to write it but…w/e… it was a people's vote!

3rd Mate: Snape

4th Mate: Nathaniel

_**(Note: Order of 'mateship' may be changed)**_

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE: OMFG CHARLIE! . *sobs***

* * *

**Main Story Idea and betaed by the patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by the slightly crazy: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing (and he's still alive), no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy.

ALL OF HARRY'S MATES ARE MALE

If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here..

* * *

As soon as they reached the infirmary Madam Pomfrey slammed the door and descended upon them with an expression of fury.

"You-" She cried, pointing at them with a shaking finger.

"Why are you _always _here? Why can't you people just stay _out of trouble?"_

With a toss of her grey hair she turned around and began to bustle about the room. The poor shelves went through a bit of abuse as Pomfrey began to shake out rolls and rolls of gauze. Giving them a pointed look, she quickly pointed her wand at all the doors and windows.

"You can't get out until your both completely healed", she warned, and as Malfoy fidgeted a bit she opened her eyes a little wider,

"Absolutely. Not"

Quickly, she opened the storage room door and shut it behind her. The boys sat on their beds, avoiding each other's gaze, while an assortment of clanging, banging and clashing sounds could be heard through the thin door.

Harry felt blood rush upwards and doubled forwards. Struggling with each of his steps, he collapsed and curled himself onto a scratchy mattress. His tail was bent at a brutal angle and every time he tried to breathe, it felt like a knife was sticking into him, he could only take short, shallow breaths. Once again, he cupped his hands around his nose, but the blood continued to flow.

He rested his head against the pillow and watched silently as Malfoy smirked down at him.

"That's for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong"

Ah, the confundus charm had worn out.

Harry shut his eyes. He was in too much pain.

_Why did I… get so angry? The prat's right, he's got nothing to do with me. I almost killed him._

_But it was Snape's fault also! If he hadn't, if he hadn't- what am I saying?_

The blonde boy gingerly unwrapped his robes from around himself and lowered himself onto a small bed in a far corner of the room. With a small whimper, Malfoy leapt up and sand back down again, this time facing Harry.

Madam Pomfrey suddenly burst back into the room. Tutting loudly when she saw how far apart their beds where, she pointed at Malfoy, and then at the bed next to Harry.

"Your gonna have to be closer than that" She remarked, and then when Malfoy gave her an outraged look, she said "Dumbledore's orders" and that put an end to that.

When the pureblood was settled she coughed lightly to get both of their attentions.

"This is bruise balm" She said, pointing a small finger at a fat, round jar with a mustard-like substance in it.

"This is a small dose of Skelegro. The cream type"

She pulled her cart closer until it was next to Harry bed, but two beds away from Malfoy's.

Reaching in, she pulled out two more jars of ointment.

"Wormwood, willow bark and ash mixture. Helps soothe the pain"

"Sandalwood, ground witchetty grubs and longhorn beetle powder"

Pointing to a drawer in her cart she said , "Tape, gauze, medical scissors"

Pomfrey paused at that, and pointedly showed them the scissors. Short and too blunt to cut anything except for tape and gauze. Then, she pointed to another drawer which was labeled 'Potions'

"By the courtesy of Professor Snape and Professor Bainbridge" She warned, "Don't waste them. They've got blood replenishing potions and Dreamless Sleep"

Harry tried to sit up, but his tail was still twisted awkwardly and when he tried to get up, the worst kind of agony burst through him and he slumped onto his side in defeat.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a sympathetic look and tossed the small jar of Gro-cream to Malfoy- instead of him, who needed it.

Harry scowled, what was that for?

Then, the old lady wiped her hands on her red apron and smiled like she was satisfied with herself. Slowly, she picked up a thin notebook and tossed it to Harry.

"Information on how to treat your wounds. Both of you" Then, she began to walk to the door.

Alarmed, Harry tried to sit up again, so he could see what she was doing, but Malfoy spoke up.

"Madam Pomfrey? Aren't you going to treat us?" he said, a faint dent on his forehead.

"Treat you?" Pomfrey laughed, and gave them both a secret smile.

"You're going to have to treat each other's wounds. Dumbledore's orders"

The door closed with a click.

And that was that.

* * *

They both stared at the cart in disbelief. They were supposed to treat themselves?

Harry twisted to the side and reached for the booklet. Flipping through the pages, he reached for his wand.

…?

"Where the fuck is it?" came a shriek from Harry's left. Apparently Malfoy was looking for his too.

The blonde got up and towered over Harry's bed. Eyes glinting, he pointed his finger accusingly at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Where. Is. It"

Harry met the grey eyes and glowered back.

"I don't even have mine, why the bloody hell would I have yours?"

Glaring pointedly at Harry, the Malfoy scion shuffled over to the cart and began rummaging through the things. A few tortuously monotonous minutes later, Malfoy gave a shout of triumph.

And then his face fell.

"What the-?"

Harry pulled himself up by the shoulders and pulled the wand from Malfoy's hands.

In small print and along the handle of the wand read:

_Kiddy safe Medical Wand. Capable of performing healing charms of beginner to practitioner level._

Harry groaned and let Malfoy grab the wand from him. The blonde made the same exasperated noise as him and tossed the plain white wand back into the cart.

The Saviour stared up at the plain white-washed ceiling; he couldn't even be bothered to reach for the bruise cream. The blood trickling from his nose made him want to sneeze as it ran down his face.

Twisting slightly, he pulled the plain white wand out and tried a mild cleaning charm.

Nothing happened and Harry sighed, but chose to tuck the kiddy safe wand under his pillow. Hooking his legs over the side of his bed, he pulled out a box of tissues and held it up to his nose.

As he wiped it, the soft tissue rubbed his nose the wrong way and Harry made a small mock sneeze. His body shaking.

"uuu…nhhhgghh..ah. ah... Ahhhh…AHH….AHHHCHUUUU"

Malfoy's head whipped around, alarmed.

Harry's eyes opened again and he gingerly wiped his nose with the tissues again, ignoring all the splattered blood on the sheets.

"Say it, don't spray it, Potter"

Feeling giddy with the mildly explosive sneeze, Harry's brain had an idea.

"Fancy some red lipstick, Malfoy?"

With agility and speed surprising even himself, he reached over and wiped some of his blood over Malfoy's parted lips.

The blonde boy was stunned for a moment, when what Harry had done finally sank through his brain.

_If it takes that long for it to sink in, his brain must be made of rocks._

"YOU MOTHER F***ER"

The pureblood's face paled dramatically before he made a retching noise and ran like an ostrich for the porcelain sink next the door.

Harry watched the scene, laughing to himself.

It was _his _blood on Malfoy's lips this time, and that thought made Harry smug. And tingly.

When Malfoy came back, his lips had been scrubbed till they were almost bleeding and with barely a sound, he flopped silently onto his cot and proceeded to ignore the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry got up from his bloody sheets and walking gingerly, he made his way over to the little sink and peered at the reflection of himself in the mirror.

His nose was a bloody mess and was a dark purple blob on his face. Almost dry blood dribbled out of his nose and when he lifted up his shirt, both sides of his body were darkly bruised from where Malfoy had slammed him into the walls. He ran his fingers over them lightly and hissed in pain as his fingers ran over what he supposed was his broken rib.

He let the cotton shirt fall back over his torso.

Hearing a shuffling sound from the other side of the room, Harry craned his neck over to see what had caused the noise. It must have been Malfoy, the boy had his blanket wrapped around himself like a cocoon.

Mentally shrugging, Harry unbuckled his belt and slipped his trousers down- just a smidgen, though – and inspected the area surrounding his tail, it didn't look bruised, but felt a bit tender when he prodded them.

Softly, he ran his hands over the short, satin-like furs that covered his tail. They were a couple of breaks, but none of them felt too severe- but the parts of the tail around the tails were swollen and painful.

Not bothering to pull his pants up again, Harry reached for one of the soft blue gowns that were neatly folded on one of the extra beds.

He opened the buttons in the front and shoved his arm through.

Something didn't feel quite right.

Harry looked at the sleeve. It was too short, missing the base of his palm by three inches.

Shrugging the gown off, Harry checked the size tag of the other one. Quickly, he slipped it onto himself and pulled on the pants as well.

He walked over to the cart of things beside him, got out some bruise balm and picked up the small booklet Madam Pomfrey had left behind with her and which he had left face-first on his cot.

He poked his hand underneath his pillow and withdrew the wand. He settled as best as he could into the bed and flipped to the index.

'_**Common Breaks and Pains and How To Patch Up the Careless Wizard'**_

_Pg.3- Introduction_

_Pg. 4- Basic Apparatus_

_Pg.6- Spells for General Use_

_Pg. 7- Basic Healing Charms_

_Pg.13- Standard Healing Charms_

_Pgs. 14-34-__** Non-spell treatment:**_

_Balms and Their Uses_

_Bandages and Their Uses + How to Arrange Them_

_Potions and Their Uses_

_Skele-gro/Gro-cream and Their Uses_

_Pgs. 34-40-__** Simple Maladies and How to Cure:**_

_Headaches_

_Light Muscle/Joint pain_

_Sunburn_

_Swollen flesh_

Harry delved into 'Balms and Their Uses' straight away.

_Bruise Balm: A simple balm made since pre-Medieval times. Rub well into flesh using steady, circular strokes._

He quickly unscrewed the lid of the jar and dipped his fingers into the small, round jar and began to apply it to the bruises around his nose.

Or at least, he tried to.

Harry frowned as he looked at his finger, there was no mixture on it.

Furrowing his brows, Harry watched carefully as he pushed his finger into the balm.

Huh?

Harry blinked his large green eyes in muddled confusion.

That wasn't right.

The balm didn't stick itself onto his fingers.

Why?

Confused, Harry flicked to 'Basic Healing Charms' and began to look for something to heal his bruises with.

Keeping in mind that using spells to heal the body was usually more detrimental to the body than non-spell treatments and that too much use could cause potential problems, Harry would've rather stuck to balms and potions.

Finding the appropriate healing charm, Harry spoke the incantation and tapped the plastic-y feeling wand to his bruises.

Absolutely. Nothing

Harry tried again, pushing more magic into the medical wand. He watched with slitted eyes as the thin tendrils of magic pulsed into the wand. He spoke the words again and felt as the familiar pulse of magic flowed from beneath his fingers.

It was definitely going to work this time.

Tapping the wand to his face, Harry waited for the 'small ticklish feeling' it was supposed to feel like.

Nothing.

Why? Harry had clearly felt the wand perform the spell, it wasn't from lack of magic, nor the lack of clear pronunciation.

Flopping frustrated onto his bed, Harry held up the 'Kiddy safe' wand.

Could it be the wand?

But his magic _had _flowed into the wand, hadn't it? It had been working just like any spell would-

Until Harry had actually _performed _the spell. The wand had definitely released the spell, Harry knew it, had felt it.

He threw the wand into the cart.

-Unless the magic had vanished once released into the room?

Harry looked into the the 'Non-Spell Treatment' section.

* * *

Harry looked down at the ground in horror.

Why?

The gauze and tape he had carefully wrapped his tail with had slowly unpeeled itself and fallen to the floor.

Growling in irritation, Harry picked the mess up off of the floor. Listlessly, he chucked them onto a bed, not caring where it landed.

Harry raked a hand through his hair and sat down onto the crimson splattered sheets.

A moment later a spluttering souns interrupted the silence and an indignant voice pierced the air.

"Don't dump your trash on me, Potter", the blonde snarled, removing the bandages from his face.

"I'm sorry. Can you smell dead ferret? I think it's coming from the garbage dump", Harry said, sarcastically.

Malfoy eyed the Savior like a particularly dumb house elf and said, with his nose high up into the air.

"Take these away and give me the bruise balm"

Harry was going to totally ignore the prat, but since he rather liked the fact that this sentence contained no 'Potter' slapped on to it, Harry grudgingly grabbed the mess and chucked the pot over.

The grey-eyed pureblood plumped up his pillows and unscrewed the lid of the balm, giving it a suspicious sniff, he put his finger in.

And frowned.

The grey eyes met green and Malfoy lobbed the pot and lid at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Very funny, Potter", Malfoy pursed his lips, "Now undo the jinx"

Harry scoffed and gestured around him,

"Do you see a fully functional wand nearby?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and pointed to the 'kiddy-safe' wand.

Harry smirked and threw the wand into the pureblood's outstretched palm.

Raising an eyebrow, Harry challenged him, "Try performing any spell on that, Malfoy- I doubt it will work"

The Heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy coughed and gave a prim swish of the wand.

"_Formasanguini"_

Nothing happened. Not the tiniest hint for magic.

Harry folded his arms smugly.

Malfoy pushed himself off of his bed and skulked over to Harry's spotted bed.

"Don't lie to me, Potter. You've done something, I know you have!", the boy hissed, eyes flashing.

"Do you have any proof, Malfoy? Do you?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth.

Seeing that anger would not get through the skull of a raging pureblood, Harry held up both his hands and picked up the pot of bruise balm which Malfoy had pitched at him.

He put his finger in and showed it to Malfoy.

"See, it happened to me too"

It was refreshingly weird to address the pureblood without a single 'ferret or Malfoy' tagged to the end.

Harry then gestured to the booklet and wand.

"I tried a couple of spells in here, but they wouldn't work- even though I know I had done everything right"

Yep, it was definitely nice to be having a semi-civil (though one-sided) conversation.

Smoothly, Harry nodded at the pile of bandages and tape.

"I tried putting them on, too. They just peel right off."

Malfoy gazed at the pile somewhat suspisciously.

Harry smiled genially. Hey, this was fun. Who knew that he could get these kind of (silent) reactions from the prat?

"Prove it", the blonde boy said.

Rolling his eyes, Harry got some more tape and gauze. After he finished, it all fell apart, dropping to the pale white marble.

Eyes widening in disbelief, Malfoy grabbed the things off Harry and started wrapping around his wrist.

It didn't work.

"Bloody _hell!"_

Smugly, Harry followed Malfoy like an excited puppy as he strode over to the Savior's bed and flipped through the small medicinal book.

As Malfoy speedily sped through, a small piece of parchment the size of Harry's palm fell out of the pages and fluttered to the ground, where it lay there innocuously until Harry bent over and picked it up.

His brows rose as he read the thin, over-cursive writing.

Malfoy raised a thin blonde brow.

"What?"

Harry looked curiously at the slip of paper and shrugged, preferring to flip it around.

Malfoy's jaw dropped to the ground.

* * *

**Description:**This particularly strange creature is known for its white-blonde fur and the grey pigment in the eyes. It can be told apart from other similar blonde-haired-grey-eyed beings as it displays a proud, haughty manner and distinctive nose-lifting behaviors only shown by this particular breed of animal.

**Habitat:** It prefers large manors decorated with green and silver- and it is known to loathe any shade of red. If seen, the red will be clawed to shreds or spat on.

**Diet: **Being a particular animal, it has been reported as a first-class food-eating species. On occasion, this animal has been known to eat plain porridge.

These phenomenal creatures are known as **'The Common Malfoy" **(Don't tell them I said that O.O)

~XOX~

Harry was watching one said Malfoy grumble as he picked up a bowl of steaming porridge.

"I am _not _going to work with you, whatever you may think, Potter" The boy's eyes flashed silver before he picked up his spoon and delicately broke the soft layer of skin on the porridge.

Harry lay immobile on his bed. Ignoring the ache in his ribs, he cracked open his dry lips.

"It was signed by Dumbledore" he reasoned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and sneered, before he scooped some porridge and swallowed it.

Harry turned his eyes to the grand arches that filled the ceiling. His own bowl of porridge was waiting beside him, but he couldn't care less.

He wasn't hungry.

What did that slip of paper mean? Did Dumbledore _literally _want them to help each other? But what did that mean? Did they have to solve their problems before they'd be able to get treatment?

If it was, Harry was on the worse end of this stick. His injuries were far more extensive than Malfoy's…

But that was his own fault- wasn't it?

Why did his heart pound so angrily when he saw Malfoy and … that…?

Was it what the boy was doing? Was it because Harry thought homosexuals were disgusting?

No, that wasn't it.

That couldn't be it. Love was love after all, wasn't it?

But if that wasn't it… why had his eyes gone blurry and his mind filled with nothing but possession and _anger?_

_What the fuck was wrong with him?!_

A choking sound reached his ears and Harry heard Malfoy grumble loudly.

"Great, I can't even _swallow _properly without hurting. Thanks, Potter, thanks"

Harry's heart twisted. He can't believe he had done _that- _

_To…to a submissive._

A sharp pain in his side brought Harry out of his strange thoughts and he coughed, the pain flaring broken rib hurt when he breathed too deeply and Harry was forced to take small, shallow breaths. His fingers dug themselves into the bed before Harry slumped into the mattress and let sleep take him away.

* * *

Draco had rarely been admitted into the infirmary except for the time the bloody chicken had raked his filthy claws down his arm.

Okay, scratched, more like.

…and the time Potter had summoned him.

Draco peered about the room as they were pushed through. It was spacious, and had tall arches adorned the ceiling. The infirmary walls were made of cream white stone and the window were tall and extended to the ceiling, however, they were not meant to stay, for Pomfrey pushed them into a smaller part of the infirmary.

As soon as both of them were on the other side of the door, Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth and started chattering with vehemence.

_Why was Potter always here?_

_Why couldn't they stay out of trouble?_

Draco ignored her for the most part- until she pointed her wand at all the potential exits in the room and told them that they wouldn't be able to get out before they were completely healed.

_What am I going to bloody do for the duration? Count the number of arches in the ceiling?_

_Not bloody likely._

After that, Pomfrey made him sleep in a bed _closer _to the Golden Boy's and then began pointing to all the balms and introducing them.

Draco felt something was off and the feeling got worse as she started talking about potions. His fears were confirmed when Pomfrey gave them the instructions booklet.

He spoke up.

"Madam Pomfrey? Aren't you going to treat us?"

"Treat you?" Pomfrey laughed, and gave them both a secretive smile.

"You're going to have to treat each other's wounds. Dumbledore's orders"

The door closed with barely a sound.

Silence reigned before Draco walked tentatively towards his bed and sat down. Potter did the same.

The first thing that crossed his mind was that his wand was gone- and his hand dug under his pillow.

It wasn't there.

"Where the fuck is it?"

The blonde got up and loomed over Harry's bed. He pointed his finger accusingly at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Where. Is. It"

Potter glowered back.

"I don't even have mine, why the bloody hell would I have yours?"

Draco went over to the cart and began rummaging through the things. His hands overturned every box that was laid down at the top and rummaged through all the small drawers on the side. A minute later, his fingers came upon a smooth handle. Draco gave a shout of triumph.

"What the-?"

Draco stared disbelievingly at the inscription.

_Kiddy safe Medical Wand. Capable of performing healing charms of beginner to practitioner level._

Potter took the wand from his hands and frowned. Draco grabbed the wand back and chucked it back onto the cart.

A bit later, Potter took the wand out again and Draco watched as he tried a cleaning charm.

Nothing happened.

The Savior audibly sighed and grabbed a box of tissues and began to wipe his nose.

Without warning, Potter's shaggy head fell forward and started gasping, shallow and short. The shoulders began to heave up and down.

Draco's pulse sped up and he felt a measure of alarm.

_What was happening?_

Standing up quickly, he made the step required to stand over the shaking form of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Abruptly, the sound of sniffing increased and Potter gave a tremendous sneeze.

The boy looked up and Draco was horrified to see that Potter's hands were filled with blood. Some of the spray had escaped his hands and the plain white sheets were now spotted scarlet.

Draco sneered in distaste.

Potter had only sneezed.

"Say it, don't spray it, Potter"

The other boy looked at him blankly for a moment before a mischievous light filled his eyes.

"Fancy some red lipstick, Malfoy?"

A blur was all that Draco saw then.

That, and the warm and tingly sensation that spread through his lips.

Potter stood before him, smirking. The light fell on him oddly and so his eyes glowed bright and his hair shimmered even as it flew out in odd angles.

Draco felt his heart beat faster. And faster. He felt light headed.

Dimly, he realized that the warm liquid that had covered his lips had been Potter's blood and his heart thudded harder in his chest.

What did it mean?

His pulse fluttered within his veins.

Had Potter tried something? Had he somehow acted upon his Scáth instincts? Draco _had _been there that day.

But… it was ridiculous.

Draco's Veela wouldn't stand for it.

His mouth opened and before he could think of anything, it spoke of its own accord.

"YOU MOTHERF***ER" it shouted.

Draco felt all the heat drain out of his face and he ran desperately for the small sink in the corner of the room. He wanted to bury his face in the cool water and rub off all traces of the Potter off of his lips.

Somehow, that thought inflamed him more and it felt somehow as if Potter had kissed him. Like he had left a claim on Draco's lips.

Rubbing harshly, all the red flowed down into the drain.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: HARRY IS IN DANGER- WHAT WILL DRACO DO?!**


	18. Their Second Kiss

Un-betaed as of yet. So, that means little mistakes…

This _is _still my first ever longer-than-5000-words fic and I like romances to be slowish- or at least at a reasonable human pace. Not sex and then love.

Well, I wouldn't really know...this is also my first attempt at romance.

* * *

**Thank you for your reviews guys! Good or flame (they still gave me insight to my story and its shortcomings), so I thank:**

**Book-AddictFF, Unsatisfied, SevLoverKat, MySexyPack101, satomi, DB1, Jan and shay.**

* * *

**Qwinn**: Heh, you can be sure that Draco's sneaky side will come out sooner or later. But you'll have to read through this chapter first.

I keep forgetting that I added more info on the mates on AFF than here. Harry's first two mates are Draco and one unknown (Ryr or Seb with an interesting twist) and the last two are Severus and Nathaniel. Actually, the mateship order may be subject to lots of change.

I changed my mind after the poll- at first, I was just going to hold a poll for the third mate, but it ended up being the fourth as well. But if a lot of people are unhappy with the fourth mate then there might be another poll.

It's up to them, I guess.

**jujukitty: **lol, sorry. That was purely my fault and had nothing to do with the story. I've found myself stuck into Snarry again (my OTP!) and every time I write sevviepoo's name I get this image of him hovering over a cauldron. My silly fingers decided to do away with some words and add an ingredient here and a cauldron there, lmao. I've fixed it now, so it should be….less confusing? Ahahah

**And yes, sorry people out there. I hope by now you will have realized I like to take my romances a bit…slow (it's not THAT slow, is it?). I like to keep this as realistic as possible and it is true that Harry and Draco had no reason to like each other ever before. ****BUT and I say BUT.**

**There is progress in this chapter and you can expect…*giggles* **_**something **_**in the next chappie.**

* * *

**Requested and Main Story Idea by the lovely and patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by not-so-slightly-insane: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing, no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

* * *

_[That morning]_

As Draco gracefully slid under the covers of his blanket, he snorted softly to himself.

Stupid stormy days. They never did bode well.

Actually, Draco blamed all that had happened this day on the utterly disgusting dream he had had last night.

Well, it was quite…exciting at the time…

He had woken up tangled in his sheets and his heart beating like a hare's footfalls as it ran from a fox.

A small ache in his head told him that his instincts disapproved of bottoming, even in dreams, it seemed.

Draco had relaxed in bed for several minutes, enjoying the peace and utter calm that only a good ejaculation could bring.

After that, he had napped until breakfast and then left for the Great Hall.

His creature consciousness twinged uncomfortably and Draco shoved images of body sliding against body and pale fingers tangled within wild black hair.

It sank back, satisfied.

Draco smirked, underneath it all- he was still a Veela. A creature of desire and lust.

* * *

Four hours later, during Defense, Draco was really regretting it. Now, his Veela was a mess of raging hormones and its centre of attention was no other than the shaggy haired boy a few mats away from him, dueling with Neville.

As the badly worded spell went haywire, Draco's Veela crooned happily and bathed in the aura of the one who had featured in Draco's immensely satisfying wet dream.

Draco scowled.

The smell of Potter's heady magic caused Draco's nerves to tingle pleasantly and he felt an answering warmth and tightness down below.

Breathing steadily through his mouth, Draco struggled to hold his wand steady as he fired of another hex.

Stupid dream

Professor Snape snapped at Potter and the taller boy stalked over, passing by Draco in a wave of fluttering nerves and the overwhelming scent of fresh soap and something that smelled like pure power.

A stinging hex missed his cheek by millimeters and he swung back into his duel with Blaise.

* * *

Draco flew out of the classroom as soon as class was dismissed, stumbling and gasping for breath.

Potter's smell, his aura- it was all too overwhelming.

He was frustrated.

Very frustrated.

He thrust one of them- Goyle- against the wall and cast a disillusionment charm over all three of them and mashed their lips together.

All that Draco felt was the cold gravelly texture of the wall which his palms were pressed against and the scratchy texture of the chin below his.

He bit till his lips drew blood.

It…wasn't enough.

It didn't compare.

And then- as if on cue- Potter appeared.

Hiding his face behind the crook of Goyle's neck, he smirked as he felt the invisibility charm trickle away.

Part of him was pleased and yet chilled to see the gleam of possession within those bright green eyes.

Draco couldn't even remember much about what had happened next- just that it was violent.

Everything was still a bit muddy from the confundis charm Potter had tossed at him within the mayhem.

And then, he was in the infirmary, peeking underneath his blanket to watch the Boy-Who-Lived strip.

Draco was not blushing at all.

At all.

He wasn't. Definitely not.

The excitement he felt at peeking at Harry's naked torso was undermined by the feeling he got as each and every one of his bruises and breaks were revealed.

Ugly purple splotches on both sides that ran the length of his body.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Draco watched as Potter slipped one hand into his waistband.

Draco gulped.

The hand gripped tighter, pulled, and the trousers were slipping.

Draco blushed into his pillow.

Merlin's balls, he wasn't even a bloody _virgin _anymore.

When the trousers promised to reveal some more, Draco glimpsed a furry thing and practically _shrieked _(silently),twisting in his sheets.

All shuffling sounds from the other side of the room ceased and Draco felt his face heat underneath the safe cocoon on his making.

Had he…had he been caught peeking?

Sounds of movement recommenced and Draco buried his face into the pillow.

A while later, Draco woke to the feeling of something tickling his face.

Grabbing the offending item, Draco examined it.

Turning his head, he poked his arms out of the warmness and yelled, "Don't dump your trash on me, Potter!"

The boy in question slowly turned around and raised a brow.

"I'm sorry. Can you smell dead ferret? I think it's coming from the garbage dump"

Draco rolled his eyes. But really, Potter was getting better at this.

"Take these away and give me the bruise balm"

Surprisingly, Potter did as he was told.

* * *

[A bit later]

Draco couldn't believe what was happening, not only had the bruise balm failed to even _stick itself onto Draco's fingers- _but his spell hadn't worked and Draco knew his control had been absolutely f***ing perfect.

At first, Draco screamed at the Savior.

The other boy calmly replied to all of his accusations and Draco felt like a scolded little boy.

Draco had been very confused, but then, a small piece of parchment had appeared in Potter's hands and Draco grabbed it.

Cursive, upright and strangely thin letters appeared in his vision:

_Dear Draco, Harry_

_I'm afraid you will not be leaving this room until matters between you two improve. These silly childish fights have caused enough grief as it is. Until then, no spells, medication or potions will work. _

_So, make friends_

_~Alby Dumbledore_

Draco felt his eyes burn.

What. The. Hell?

There was no way in hell he and Potter would ever _make friends._

_No way in hell._

Sure, Draco admitted. Maybe there was some attraction. But he was almost completely sure that it was a creature thing.

But really. What was with the 'Alby'?

* * *

Later, Draco eyed his porridge testily and huffed.

"I am _not _going to work with you, whatever you may think, Potter"

"It was signed by Dumbledore"

Draco rolled his eyes and returned to spooning small parts of the mushy food into his mouth.

Eughk

Peeking out of the corner of his eyes, Draco watched as Potter became pensive for a moment, before he pushed his bowl away.

The Slytherin spooned up some more porridge but choked as the bite was too large and hurt the sides of his throat as he swallowed.

"Great, I can't even _swallow _properly without hurting. Thanks, Potter. Thanks"

He watched curiously as Potter's expression twisted and he rolled away from the waiting bowl of porridge.

Draco shrugged and continued to mince his way through the bowl of tasteless gruel.

* * *

Harry shifted uncomfortably. According to the wonky clock on the wall, it was just past midnight.

He felt strangely stiff. And cold.

Very cold.

Why was he so cold?

The Boy-Who-Lived grabbed his blanket tighter and wrapped it carefully around himself. It was hard to fall asleep- his every breath was painful, he could only sleep awkwardly on his front to avoid resting upon the bruises on the side and his broken tail.

He took one last look at the clock on the wall and then closed his eyes.

He was sure he'd feel better in the morning.

* * *

Draco woke up to a strange rasping noise. He froze in bed, goose bumps prickling his skin.

He opened his eyes and stared into the murky darkness.

A rattling cough and a wheeze broke the silence once more and Draco felt his heart rate speed up.

What was it?

He turned his head and glimpsed the time.

About one. It was hard to tell.

This time, Draco heard a more pronounced rattle, accompanied by a whistling sound.

Slowly, he lifted his sheets off of himself.

It wasn't him making those noises- and there definitely wasn't anyone else in this room who could make these noises except for-

Potter.

A cough. The sound of wetness bubbling up from within.

Silence.

Draco fumbled in the darkness. What was happening? What was-

He found the Savior trembling in the dark, wrapped in bloody sheets, eyes closed and hair matted to his forehead.

Panic was a shimmery veil that fell over his eyes and caused he heart to pound within his ears. He felt like he was going to be sick.

But- it was just Potter, wasn't it? It was just the stupid, bloody boy who had rejected him way back when-

Another shaking rattle.

What could Draco do? Nothing. There was nothing. Nothing would work until Potter and he 'made friends'. They were far from that. Far, far away.

He stumbled over to the cart.

_[Until then, no spells, medication or potions will work]_

Draco's hands shook and the things he had gathered in his hands dropped to the ground.

Oh my god.

He sank to his knees.

Potter, Potter was… he was…

Draco struggled with himself and reached for the instruction booklet.

He looked at the pages through blurry lenses and tried to still his hands.

Harr…Potter was suffering from…wait, rattling breath, wheezing, coughing up blood…shaking…

Draco could almost feel Potter's life slipping from between his fingers.

He needed. Oh god.

There was silence.

Draco couldn't even hear the signs of life anymore.

There was no coughing, no wheezing, no rattling. No nothing.

Silence.

Draco looked desperately through the booklet.

Nothing, nothing but spells. Spells he wouldn't be able to perform.

He looked at Potter.

No movement.

"Potter?" He croaked, raising a pale palm to his rival's face. No sign of breathing.

Draco felt a lump catch in his throat.

"Potter?" He said, more urgently, softly grabbing a cold arm and shaking the immobile Savior.

His instincts screamed at him. He didn't know what to do. He needed to help, he needed to. He needed to save, to stop this.

Gently, he lifted a eyelid and checked for a reaction. Anything.

Nothing

"Oh my god" he choked.

He…he couldn't…

He raised his eyes to the page he had been looking at.

_If your patient suffers from those symptoms and you are sure that the patient is unconscious, you must immediately try to revive him/her. Your patient is unconscious due to the fact that not enough oxygen is reaching his brain- causing it to shut down. _

_The first thing you must do is make sure your patient is not resting on their chest._

_This lack of oxygen can be caused by many things, the most likely in this situation it is a blockage in the airways. Try the spells listed on the bottom of the page._

_The first thing you must do is make sure your patient is not resting on their chest._

_There are other ways that might prevent the air from reaching the lungs and that might be a swollen trachea. There may also be injuries such as fractures or broken bones within his body that prevent his/her lungs from working in their full capacity._

_Make sure all of the airways are clear and if there is a problem with the nose be sure that it is remedied straight away._

_If nothing is done quickly- the patient will die within minutes. However, for magical folk with strong magic it is possible to last a little bit longer in this state. If the patient has been unconscious for ten minutes or more- the likelihood is that your patient has passed away. _

Draco breathed shallowly and stopped the rising hysteria that threatened to build up.

He wiped the corner of his eyes and stilled the trembling in his hands.

He had to do something, by the gods.

He had never felt the desire to save someone so much as now.

His instincts were wailing, ripping a hole in his chest. He was confused.

If Potter was supposed to die today, then Draco had nothing to do with it, right?

If Potter was going to die today, Draco wouldn't be responsible, would he?

When Potter died today, Draco should be rejoicing- _finally, _his most hated person would be gone. Just gone.

But even if Draco weren't to be blamed for murdering Potter, he'd still carry the guilt around with him for the rest of his life. The guilt of not doing anything while in the bed next to his, the Boy-Who-Lived's time was ticking down.

Guilt greater than he would have felt if he had killed Albus Dumbledore that night.

_Damn_

Why was he like this?

Shaking, he read the spells in the booklet. They weren't going to work. He knew it.

But… He'd be damned if he didn't try.

Calming himself, he picked up the white wand.

Please work

_Cleaning charm, clearing charm, blood dispelling charm, bruise clearing charm, blood replenishing potion._

Please, please please work.

The wand trembled in his hand.

_Cleaning charm, clearing charm, blood dispelling charm, bruise clearing charm, blood replenishing potion._

No reaction. The wand didn't move, none of his magic made it through the spells.

_Cleaning charm, clearing charm, blood dispelling charm, bruise clearing charm, blood replenishing potion._

The blood-replenishing potion didn't even pour out of its vial.

Draco felt panic again.

_Cleaning charm, clearing charm-_

A splutter.

Draco dropped the wand and put his hands on Potter's face. He slapped him and the sound rang through the deathly silence in the room.

Draco felt a sense of irony and slapped him again.

And again

And again.

Nothing happened.

Draco tried harder. He pressed the tip of the wand onto each of Potter's wounds.

"_Come on!" _Draco urged, palms fluttering down to feel the Savior's chest.

It was cold. Cold and sweaty.

The spells weren't working.

They wouldn't. They weren't even _civil _to each other- let alone _getting along._

He performed the spells again. He pushed his magic into the wand. The conductor thrummed with his magic. Carefully, he pressed the wand onto Potter's lips.

"_Gerusium__ exibolus"_

Not a spark. Why? He had released his magic, but it had disappeared as soon as he had cast it.

"Potter?" he croaked.

If none of his spells would work- nothing would work now.

The wand clattered to the floor and Draco ran his fingers through the damnpened hair. Lightly, he brushed the wild mess to the side.

The person who had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort looked so helpless.

He bit his lip.

No one…would ever know of this…

Draco carefully tipped Potter onto his back, pushing the long black tail out of the way, too worn out to be squeamish when his fingers felt the short black fur.

He lifted the blanket and lowered himself into the bed. Trembling, he laid his cheek against Potter's. It was cool to touch.

Feeling his emotions bubble in his chest, Draco laced his fingers though the other boy's cold and clammy ones. Draco wished he could somehow fix him; make those eyes glow bright with fury and bring a burning red onto his face by poking and prodding him.

Make the possessive side that Draco knew Potter had come out and ram him against the wall. Make him angry because Draco's lips had been caressing someone else's.

Draco felt sick.

Potter wasn't even his.

They were nothing to each other.

Was this what Dumbledore wanted?

Draco felt as if his heart had been thrown onto the floor, felt the sharp little rocks and sand as they scraped and pulled at his flesh.

Water spilled out of the corner of his eyes and Draco cried. Hacking sobs that shook his frame and only served to make him feel worse. He curled his fingers tightly against the unmoving ones and pulled Potter's arms up so that they were wrapped around him.

To resemble an embrace

Bitter tears turned into bitter anger and Draco closed his eyes.

There _had _to be something.

Draco couldn't be- he _wouldn't _be the reason the Savior would die.

He just _wouldn't. _

There had to be a loophole.

Stretching his body along Potter's, he tried to spread his body heat. The boy was so cold.

Potter wouldn't die because of a spell that Dumbledore himself had placed- would he?

Well, even if he _could. _There had to be a reason good enough for Dumbledore to decide to do this.

What was it?

There was a reason why Dumbledore had placed him in here with Potter.

It must've been a damn good reason if Dumbledore was willing to place both he _and _the Boy-Who-lived in the same room.

Together

Draco racked his deeply suspicious Slytherin brain.

What was it?

Wait.

The letter had said 'until matters between you two improve', right?

It hadn't said that they'd have to be lovers- or even friends, for that matter.

But did the 'improvement' _have _to be both ways?

If Draco- say, was to like Potter more than before…would it count?

Draco brushed a stray lash away from the still Gryffindor.

Well, it damn well _better._

Draco was betting everything on this.

He looked at the clock.

Potter had three minutes of life left. Before his last vestiges of magic would leave him as his neural function failed.

Now all Draco had to do was prove that relations had 'improved'. Hypothetically.

The clock ticked loudly in the quiet of the night.

Draco took a deep breath and inched his body closer to Potter's, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. This was different, _Draco, _would this by choice. It would be nothing like what had happened during the monthly gathering. Quietly, he prayed that it would work.

Draco leaned down and the sheets around him glowed as the moon fell upon the pair. Their lips met and Draco felt as if small butterflies were wreaking havoc in his stomach.

The boy wasn't even _awake._

Potter's lips were dry and cold, unmoving. Unresponsive.

Draco sat up again, ducking to hide his blush.

The trees outside rustled in the night breeze. There was no one to see.

And it was no time to dawdle.

Draco draped himself off of the side of Potter's cot and picked up the wand.

He concentrated, then, on the feeling of Potter's lips on his. The coldness- no- the wonderful abandonment of everything Draco had ever been taught. The speeding up of Draco's pulse. The small joy of their lips touching. The heated kiss the other day.

Draco pressed the wand lightly to Potter's slightly blue lips once again.

Please work

"_Gerusium exibolus"_

A hiss, a light sucking noise, a small whoosh of air.

Yesss

A small stream of blood followed the path of Draco's wand through the air and the Slytherin maneuvered it into an empty bowl on the cart.

The Boy-Who-Lived took a shuddering breath.

Draco started working on anything else that had been blocking the air from reaching his lungs properly.

He tried _episkey _on Potter's nose and the break straightened, but not completely. Draco tried some blood reducing charms and the swelling and the colour of the bruises faded dramatically.

The boy laying in the sheets took another breath and Draco flopped onto his bed.

Potter was safe.

Haha. Suck on that, death.

Draco would fix the rib tomorrow. He still had the Skele-cream somewhere, right?

The exhausted boy pulled his covers up and was swept away on the wings of sleep.

* * *

When Harry woke up the next morning, he had the strangest sensation that he'd narrowly escaped something. Something scary.

He felt better than last night, that was for certain. The strange coldness had disappeared and the pain on his face had toned down.

Harry struggled out of his sheets and felt his face with his palm.

The bruises were still there, but the break was definitely healed and there was almost no swelling.

What miracle was this?

Oh. There was a small flaw, just where his nose had been …healed. Heh, Harry smiled, now he had a nose comparable to Snape's. He felt it carefully again…yeah, there was a small flaw. A scar.

Harry stretched carefully and winced when his sides twinged with pain.

Twisting to the side, Harry came to the almost-angelic view of Draco sprawled on the sheets of his bed. The morning light streamed through the window behind him and set the blonde's hair alight with holy fire.

What a _strange _position to sleep in, Harry thought.

Malfoy was sprawled on top of his pale white sheets, mouth opened wide and limbs splayed haphazardly over the bed.

Harry stretched his arms out and thought to wake him by grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, but thought against it.

Instead, he gave the clothed shoulder a gentle poke.

A lashed eye blinked open and Harry held his breath.

It was too peaceful a morning for a row.

Malfoy yawned and stretched cutely but what Harry noticed was the pallor of his skin, the puffiness around his eyes and the shadow under his gaze.

Harry's gaze fell to Malfoy's neck, where the pale skin was marred by ugly bruises the size and shape of Harry's fingers.

He felt sick.

He lifted his gaze and Malfoy's grey eyes held fear, but the flash dwindled away to nothing.

The curtains rustled and the Slytherin boy quietly got up and removed something from under his bed. His eyes flickered once more to meet the Savior's before Malfoy averted his eyes.

Harry felt frustrated.

Why was Malfoy acting so strange? Why was his nose healed? Had it been Malfoy…?

But it couldn't be possible. Dumbledore had said that they needed to be friendly for any spell to work, right?

A soft touch near his waist shocked him out of his reverie and reflexively, he caught it with his hand.

He looked up and Malfoy's eyes widened before a pale rose tinted his cheeks.

"Uh…Potter?"

The slim fingers in Harry's grasp wiggled and the Boy-Who-Lived noticed the jar of Skele-cream.

Harry looked up again.

"Why?"

The Slytherin ignored him and quickly removed his hand from Harry's grasp.

Quietly, he unscrewed the lid and with both hands and pinched the bottom of Harry's shirt.

The Gryffindor tensed.

With deft fingers, Malfoy pulled Harry's shirt up and left it so that the scratchy wool of the infirmary gown tickled against Harry's face.

A small touch to his broken rib had Harry yowling and screaming bloody murder and instinctively, Harry tried to curl himself into a ball to protect his weakness, but a firm hand stopped him from moving.

Slowly, Malfoy traced his fingers over the wound, applying a small amount around and on top of the swelling. Harry subdued his hisses and pushed his shirt off of his face. Much better.

He could see Malfoy this way, too.

The blonde's face was screwed up tightly in concentration and every once in a while, he would stop rubbing Harry's skin and dip his fingers into the small Skele-cream- whose cream was a little cool. It was a nice thing to see- at least he wasn't plotting to hex Harry's pants off.

When Malfoy looked like he had finished, Harry raised his head.

"Shouldn't you have realigned the bone first?" he questioned.

Malfoy pursed his lips and pulled the bruise balm from the cart.

"The rib isn't broken. It's fractured, Potter"

Harry was going to roll his eyes and ask Malfoy why he was suddenly the expert on this but suddenly he just felt tired.

Harry didn't really have the right to complain, not when Malfoy was doing for Harry's benefit.

All the tension in his body seemed to leak out of him and Harry slumped into his cool sheets.

"Why is everything working suddenly?" He asked, closing his eyes and enjoying the sunlight that fell against his eyelids.

Silence greeted his question and Malfoy opened the cap of the bruise balm.

Harry sighed and tried to sleep.

But it was a little hard when Malfoy's fingers were burning his skin with every little touch.

Hey, that bruise balm sure was tingly.

* * *

**Neko: . Stupid Harry. **

**It's not the bruise balm, you dolt!**

**I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, I think it moves their relationship closer by a lot but… I don't know how interesting or retarded it was to read…**

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: NO DRACO. BAD, BAD BOY! O.O Wait…what are you doing!? **_**Aaah…**_


	19. The Fall

**Starting from after this post, I'm going to be re-uploading some of the previous chapters to give them more sense and and...yeah. I will still make an effort to post a chapter by the extended weekend.**

* * *

**Requested and Main Story Idea by the lovely and patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by not-so-slightly-insane: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing, no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

WARNINGS: Unbetaed and this chap contains a lot of...haah

* * *

Last time:

"_Why is everything working suddenly?" He asked, closing his eyes and enjoying the sunlight that fell against his eyelids._

_Silence greeted his question and Malfoy opened the cap of the bruise balm._

_Harry sighed and tried to sleep._

…_but it was a little hard when Malfoy's fingers were burning his skin with every little touch._

_Hey, that bruise balm sure was tingly._

* * *

The sunlight filtered through the tall paned windows within the infirmary and the soft smell of mint surrounded the pair on Harry's bed. It was a nice smell, and was probably released by the small pot plants that lined some of the windows.

Harry eyes were closed at that moment and he relaxed into the bed, breathing in the fresh smell.

What Malfoy was doing was quite nice, his fingers were moving rhythmically and the salve was already beginning to work- Harry could feel the soreness leave his chest and he was able to take larger, more fulfilling breaths.

"Thanks"

Malfoy ducked his head and rubbed more viciously into Harry's wounds.

Now that was an interesting reaction, Harry thought.

Bastard

But still, Harry enjoyed Malfoy's momentary kindness and let the boy rub his hands all over Harry's body…

No

BAD IMAGINATION

Ew…UGH

Oh wait… that was actually quite hot…

_Ah_

Fuck

Harry squirmed into his sheets.

Uhh, this definitely was _not _supposed to happen.

Malfoy stopped his ministrations and looked at Harry curiously, his blonde hair poking into his grey eyes.

A curious look was quite cute on him, he concluded as Malfoy continued to look puzzled.

Harry blushed, uncomfortable, and Malfoy's cheeks heated up, as if he had only just realized that he was running his hands over Harry's skin.

But then, Harry concluded, he wasn't supposed to be thinking this way.

After a few minutes of staring firmly at the cactus lookalike on the sill, Malfoy abruptly threw Harry's shirt at him and placed the jar back into the cart.

Not looking at him, Malfoy suddenly walked over to the spare cot grabbed the smaller pair of gowns. The blonde frowned at the blood stains Harry had left on them when he had tried them on before, and wrinkled his nose.

Without warning, and in one fell swoop, Malfoy spelled every single one of his buttons to clatter onto the ground. The robes came off easily, with just a shrug of the shoulders, they were off.

Harry knew that he shouldn't be looking, but the prospect of seeing Malfoy's shirt and pants coming off was just…Ahh

The soft grey vest fell to the floor before button by button, the pale green shirt underneath slipped over slim, creamy shoulders. Harry's breath caught in his chest and something akin to excitement smoldered in the pit of his stomach.

Quickly, the rest of the outfit was thrown onto the cot and before Harry could even begin to anticipate the removal of the trousers, Malfoy had already fitted himself into the long, infirmary gown. The prat.

Suddenly, and with a sinking feeling, Harry realized where he had just been looking, when Malfoy turned around. The soft breeze from one of the windows caught the blondes hair and it spilled onto his face.

Harry took the momentary lapse of Malfoy's sight and looked pointedly at the ceiling.

Oh yes.

The architecture of this room was really quite magnificent.

Harry betrayed himself with a twitch of his eye.

Silence pervaded the room before Malfoy stepped primly over to his bed, pulling his blanket over him.

Was Harry safe?

Harry turned his whole head to the side and watched speculatively as the Slytherins face softened with rest.

When Harry felt the medicine begin to really prickle his skin, he waited for the worst of the stinging to fade into a soft buzz. When it did, he removed himself softly from his position in the bed and picked up the jar of bruise cream Malfoy had left there. Harry dipped his fingers into the balm and it clung to his fingers.

He let out a sigh

Maybe part of him had been hoping that the only reason Malfoy had been able to treat him because this was all some kind of evil, Slytherin plot. Or maybe the ferret had even cursed the medical items and put on a show of not being able to use them.

Harry softly felt the flesh on his stomach. It was much better, and the bruise cream had definitely taken the sting away.

His fingers trailed upwards and he poked his ribs.

Much, much better.

One thing still fuddled him, though.

If Dumbledore's letter was true and this wasn't some kind of a bad joke, then, wouldn't he and Malfoy's relationship have 'progressed'?

Silently, he approached the bed where Malfoy's pale face rested against the soft white of the infirmary pillow.

Harry felt a strange sort of emotion bubbling within him at the sight of a helpless and sleeping snake, and with some trepidation he brushed the hair away from Malfoy's eyes.

Grey eyes snapped open and glared at him intensely.

Visibly recoiling away, Harry snapped, caught unawares, "Oh, shut it, ferret. I'm sure you would rather me apply this to your wounds than have to have another verbal spar with me"

The blonde snorted elegantly and raised a brow. "I can treat myself, Potter. And I certainly don't need _you_ to have to do it for me"

Harry felt a blush heat his face and he stared resolutely at the blonde.

Why _had _Harry felt the need to apply it himself? Malfoy was perfectly capable…

Soundlessly, he handed it over while Malfoy rolled his eyes. Harry sighed and sat back down on his bed. An annoyed grunt emanated from Malfoy's side and Harry couldn't help the small flare of pleasure that showed up briefly on his expression.

"Damnit, Potter. It doesn't work. Get over here, you arse"

Despite the crude language, Harry plopped himself down and plucked the lid off. He smeared the balm over his fingers and moved to apply it. His eyes brushed with Malfoy's and there was a moment of choked silence when grey eyes were locked with his. Harry felt himself heat up- was he wrong for wanting to help the blonde back?

Then, the grip was loosened and Malfoy moved one of his arms up so that the wrist covered both of his eyes. Harry stared, dry-mouthed, at the lips that were parted ever so slightly, and at the straight nose, and at the smooth forehead, and at the brilliant strands of hair- the lips moved.

"Get _on_ with it"

Harry nudged closer and placed his fingers onto Malfoy's bruised neck. The skin was soft and warm. Slowly, he brushed his fingers over the hand shaped marks on the boy's neck. A sick feeling welled up from within as the Slytherin hissed in pain when Harry's fingers pressed too hard.

Seeing Malfoy like this…because of a wound _he _had caused…it was an unpleasant feeling. And it made him want to thump his head against a door.

As he rubbed some more bruise balm, he spoke, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Tearing up, Malfoy?"

Malfoy shifted his arm a bit, so that Harry could see his obviously dry eyes, The eyes rose to the ceiling and Malfoy smirked, "I'm not crying, Mister Potter. You just stink so bad that my eyes are watering"

Harry hid his frown and rubbed perhaps a little more vigorously as he thought of a comeback. It _was _true. After the fight, all he had done was change clothes. He resisted the urge to lift his arm and take a sniff. Suddenly, he smiled wryly and lifted his eyebrows to adopt a surprised expression.

"Ooohh, is that a left over trait from your stunt as a ferret?"

Malfoy's neck went a bit red then, or perhaps, Harry had rubbed too hard.

The blonde boy removed his arm from his face and let it drape over his pillow. He stared at the Boy-Who-Lived, as if to ascertain whether Harry was trying to be friendly (by insulting him) or whether he was truly having a go at him.

Apparently, Malfoy could see no fault in his expression, because those lips were opening and curling to the sides.

"At least _I _don't have a weasel as a friend-"

Harry lifted his brow and stopped rubbing.

"- I heard they eat slugs"

Harry almost choked. "Prat", he murmured.

"Hrm? What was that, Potter? …I don't see you denying it"

Harry almost squawked indignantly. Thinking quickly, he didn't notice when Malfoy lifted himself onto his elbows. Harry racked his brains and when the proverbial light bulb switched on; Harry leaned forward to retort- only to yelp when soft breath blew into his nose. Their noses touched, skin brushing against skin and Harry almost jerked away… but a soft scent filled his nose and Harry stilled. Harry opened his lips and mumbled, a barely-there sound.

"A weasel is better than stupid and stupider…"

Under the sunlit space, Harry was aware that each breath he took and each word he spoke, his breath was mingling with Malfoy's… Suddenly, the air was pressing down upon his throat, his larynx.

Malfoy's face was close, very close and all Harry was breathing in was that intoxicating scent. It insinuated itself into Harry's nostrils and into his brain; Harry felt very, very muddled. Malfoy wasn't moving...why wasn't he moving?..._He'd better move soon_, Harry's mind decided, _because I can't…_

Or could he?

Their gazes locked and they were both sucked into each other's gaze. Afraid to bat an eyelash, Harry was drowning in pools of stormy grey.

"Potter?"

The word was whispered, neither looking away from the other. Harry was riveted upon those lips, those eyes. They moved again and Harry watched each movement of those pouty lips.

Harry felt his throat rumble and a small sound cross between whining and purring escaped his mouth. Harry lifted his palms and gently pushed Malfoy down by the shoulders.

"…Potter?"

* * *

The Savior's eyes were wide and glazed as the bored into him from above. Draco's palms were sweaty. What did Potter want…? Draco broke the silent staring contest and let his eyelids droop over his eyes. Potter's palms were hot against his shoulders and more and more of his body was pressing upon his, filling him with heat.

Draco looked up to find the boy's face millimeters above his and felt an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. But…he wanted to make sure… make sure that this wasn't his Veela pheromones reeling the Savior in. Draco wanted…he wanted…

"Potter...? No! Potter, you prat! This isn't-" _This isn't a game. You can't make me feel like this whenever you feel like it!_

And suddenly, those lips that had cursed Draco's name as many times as he had his, were pressing upon Draco's. They were warm and dry, brushing across his mouth- and Draco's lips felt like they were on fire. Like all of the sensors on his lips had been enhanced a million times- until all of the nerve endings were concentrated on one single touch.

Draco wanted to writhe from this simple touch, he wanted to grab, he wanted to kiss back, he wanted to rip Potter's clothes off, he wanted to hook his fingers into the lightly muscled back, he wanted to open his mouth, wider, wider, he wanted to scream, he wanted to-

And as suddenly as the kiss had come, it had gone.

Potter was halfway across the room, disheveled and flushed.

A knock on the door was all it took to break the heavy silence and Potter jumped before he went and twisted the door knob.

Draco hid his face under his blankets and tried to subdue his profound disappointment. If only they'd had a little longer. His pulse fluttered through his lips. The blonde boy traced his lips as the sound of Pomfrey's footsteps came closer. He felt the blanket being gently pulled up.

"Oh good!" Pomfrey exclaimed, peering at his throat. She turned around and beamed at Potter's nose. "I knew you could do it!" she said, capturing both of their hands from where they lay.

Draco peered over his blankets and watched as Potter's eyebrows rose to the hairline. Potter caught him looking and flushed, his hair standing on end.

"So…" Pomfrey said coyly, her eyes flickering between the two. "how did it happen?"

Draco stifled his blush. He had kissed an unconscious Boy-Who-Lived. A few seconds ago he had been _kissing _the Boy-Who-Lived.

The raven haired boy looked away quickly and shrugged, sounding nonchalant. "I woke up this morning and my nose had been treated"

Madam Pomfrey frowned and turned towards Draco, "So you were the one who improved the relationship?" Pomfrey looked a bit skeptical. Draco felt himself heat up. God, this was humiliating. How was he going to explain?

Potter turned the full force of those brilliant orbs upon him. "Last night…did you do anything, Draco?"

Said boy was so focused on his inner thoughts he almost missed the whispered 'Draco'. When he processed the word, however, Draco almost bit his tongue.

Draco…

It sounded so…so different from_ Malfoy_. It made Draco feel like he was no longer 'Malfoy' to Potter…_Harry…_

Why did Potter make him feel this way? Before last night, Draco wouldn't have hesitated to throttle him. Bash him. Leave him on the ground bleeding.

Death? Maybe not….

But excruciating pain? Yes, definitely yes.

Well…it _had _been a yes.

"Well, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco ripped his eyes from Potter's gaze. He hadn't come up with a suitable fib. Draco'd just have to tell the truth…leaving out some parts, of course.

"Potter was choking on his own spit last night. I suppose he stopped breathing and went unconscious from lack of air. Of course, if he wasn't such an idiot, maybe he wouldn't have slept _on his front-"_

Draco shot a look at Madam Pomfrey's face. He was in character, wasn't he?

"-He resembled a frozen fish so much, I guess I had no choice but to help him. Couldn't let the Boy-Who-Live be defeated by his own spittle, could I?"

Was that enough for her?

The old woman's eyes lit up and she scribbled something onto a pad she took out of her infirmary uniform. "You're making great progress, boys. If this continues, you may both be let out on Thursday" she chuckled then, as if something was funny to her, "I'll be back tomorrow-"

"Wait!" Draco interrupted. "Potter could have died last night! Don't you think your _responsibility_ as a healer is to watch over your patients? Of course, that only shows your level of ability- but I almost didn't get to him on time!"

Draco didn't understand why he was being such a prat to the healer, he usually _was_ a prat, but he was never a prat when he needn't be. He surmised that he didn't like the thought of Potter being dangerously close to death.

Madam Pomfrey's eyes glittered. "I may be only a Hogwarts nurse, but by golly I have healed more people than you ever will, Mister Malfoy, and you would do good to remember that!" she seemed to bristle for a moment, and Potter had the strangest expression on his face.

"And Mister Malfoy, did you really think Dumbledore would _really _leave two seriously injured boys to their own devices? If Harry had truly almost died, Dumbledore would most surely have prevented it. After all, the aim of the game is not to kill you both…it's to improve your relations…"

With that, Pomfrey walked out the spare infirmary room.

Draco felt like he had been played. Played like a fool…by _Dumbledore, _no less.

…Bastard

* * *

Draco had saved him last night? He had almost died?

He would have never opened his eyes this morning…

Harry felt fear stab into his gut, and then relief. Sheer relief.

Thank you, Draco.

Thank you. Thankyou. Thankyouthankyou_thankyouthankyouthankyou_

He touched the small scar on his nose. It felt tingly and sensitive still. Harry felt his spirits lift. Maybe…maybe the kiss just then hadn't been some in-the-moment thing. Maybe they weren't destined to be rivals forever. Maybe the small thing that had woken in his chest the moment they had touched lips wasn't some passing fancy.

But Harry was scared. He had never liked anyone this way before. Sure, there had been Ginny. But she was… nothing. His best friend's little sister. A nice girl he may have felt a little close to than most. A girl, he might say, who was becoming increasingly annoying lately.

Harry scowled. Yeah, she has really started to pay attention _after _Harry had suddenly gotten his inheritance. _After _he had grown a foot taller. _After _hewas so tan that Harry wondered why no one had told him he looked like a fried duck. _After _he was the heir of two Noble Houses. _After _he had inherited bucket loads of money and dozens of mansions.

The clack of the closing door interrupted his thoughts and he realized that Madam Pomfrey must have just left.

Harry avoided Draco's eyes and paced around the room, looking for something to do. The kiss still burned his lips. He needed to do something. Quietly, he walked over to the sink and started rhythmically washing his hands. As the cold water slowly turned warm, Harry closed his eyes and thought of the moment they had shared on the bed before Madam Pomfrey had walked in.

Draco had been soft, bony, yet pliant under his hands.

Harry grabbed the soap tightly and started rubbing viciously, scrubbing his skin with vigor. He looked into the mirror and caught the flicker of grey eyes on his reflection before Draco turned around hastily.

Harry stopped scrubbing.

There had been a moment, a moment when Harry's Scáth had felt _so right. _All he had wanted to do was draw the blonde closer to his chest never let him go.

He looked up at himself in the mirror. His hair hung down limply and greasily, the bruises around his nose had faded but they were still yellow and brown and he smelled. Smelled badly.

Hastily, he ripped his eyes from the mirror and raked his wet hands through his hair, attempting to tame it a little. Then, he wet his hands and wiped his face, getting rid of some of the dried blood.

"No matter what you do to it, Potter, It won't work. If I recall correctly, your tangle of weeds that you call _hair-_ has been like that since the entrance ceremony"

Harry twisted his head around to see Draco sneering at him, from his rest on the pillow. He glanced at the boys pale blonde strands of hair that lay straight on his head and glared at his own reflection.

"Yours hasn't- how much bleach have you used on your hair, Malfoy? I believe it was several shades _darker _during the entrance ceremony. You wouldn't want to bleach your brain more than it already has been"

Draco scoffed.

* * *

Harry stared at the tub Madam Pomfrey had dumped on them as soon as they had spooned the last bits of gruel into their mouths.

It was a shiny, porcelain white, claw foot tub. It had been put there unceremoniously by an unapologetic Madam Pomfrey who then magicked away the dishes and gave them a jar of colored soaps. She gave them a slightly bemused look before closing the door with a bang.

Shaking his head, Harry picked up the wand and swished it experimentally. Was the water redirecting spell even work with this thing? Harry could see no other way of filling the tub with hot water…unless he wanted to attempt a difficult summoning/heating charm at the same time and with the kiddy-safe wand nonetheless.

Just as Harry was contemplating what spell to perform, he was suddenly pushed to the ground. The world toppled around him and the only thing he could see was…blonde. And all that he could taste was hair.

"Wha- Malfoy?"

Suddenly, his head was hitting the ground and Draco was on top of him, scrabbling at Harry's fingers. Harry's breath whooshed out of him and he spat out the strands of hair in his mouth. Draco's hips writhed against his as the blonde wriggled around like a fish. They kept at this for a while, Harry still too dizzy to register that Draco wanted the wand and Draco still trying to get to his nice hot bath. His grip on the wand loosened and it was out of his grasp a moment later. Finally, Draco stopped struggling and sat up with the wand in hand.

By that time, Harry was half delirious. Having a lithe teen body writhing on your lap wasn't exactly the most relaxing thing. Draco's smooth legs had been exposed as the infirmary gown had hitched up during the battle for the wand. His face had been centimeters above his and the exertion had given him a lovely pink hue…

Harry groaned and shifted a bit, Harry Jr. perked up and salivated at the sight of a rumpled Malfoy with nice legs. Said Malfoy met Harry's gaze and blushed, as if only just realizing the position they were in. Harry bit his lip, oooohhhh just a little more friction- and Draco had leapt off his lap and flung his gown off.

Harry twisted his head to see the view. Ah, he was really turning into a regular pervert. But a little peeking wouldn't hurt, would it? Especially since he hadn't been able to see anything earlier. Harry rolled around on the ground, almost knocking into a shelf, just to get the right angle.

Very, very nice legs

Nice, firm butt

Pale, smooth back

Long, elegant neck…

The Savior felt Harry Jr. start to shake from excitement and he stifled a moan. He wondered if this was wrong; he was a man, spying on a naked man, having lustful thoughts about said man- wanting to grab those shoulders, twist them around, and then press his lips sweetly against the mouth he had already tasted twice before.

Shaking his head, Harry stared at the scarred wood of the shelf he was lying next to.

But what if…

What if this wasn't plain lust? Was there possibly a reason why Harry was so undeniably attracted to Draco?

The current of desire that had been the undercurrent of everything he did around the blonde Slytherin- Harry noticed it, now.

It was the reason why he had kissed Draco that day at the gathering, the reason he had been so infuriated when he had seen the blonde pretty boy contaminating his lips with _someone else's _saliva, when Draco had been erotically sucking the skin on Goyle's neck. Why he had been so angry that he had felt the urge, felt the _need _to pull Draco away and pummel sense into him?

To berate him for cheating on Harry, for desiring somebody else.

And that was it. Technically, Draco did not belong to Harry, not at all. But how could he explain all those things? How could he explain the sudden attraction, the possessiveness, the unexplained anger, the gentle emotion that caused small flutters in his stomach?

Harry turned away from the shelf and looked carefully at the pinkish figure that slipped itself into the bathwater with a satisfied sigh. What was Draco to him?

The blonde head ducked beneath the water and surfaced, water sluicing off him in cascades. When he turned, slate grey eyes met with green.

Harry felt a jolt of electricity shock his senses. He…had just been caught ogling, hadn't he?

* * *

Draco hadn't known, but he had guessed. Even as he had dipped his head under water, he had felt a hungry gaze burning the skin on his back, making him itch, making him shiver. The hot water filled his ears and he imagined that gaze locked onto him, raking his body. Suddenly, he felt heavy, hot, pulsing pressure press into his body. It fell upon everything and Draco felt something split apart from inside of him. It forced his Veela down down _down_ and his chest ached and fluttered and thrummed and _hurt._

Gasping for breath, Draco felt the water run off him before he twisted his neck and found Potter's eyes staring piercingly into his.

* * *

OMFG THAT WAS HARD TO END. Sorry for such a long wait!

REALLY REALLY SORRY .

I could say things like I had exams since two weeks ago and that I had a lot of assessments but no one wants to hear excuses. Thankfully, the coming weekend is extended and I wont have anymore exams for another three weeks (i think) ahahah

-Neko


	20. Across the Table

**Requested and Main Story Idea by the lovely and patient: SuirenAngel**

**Written by not-so-slightly-insane: NeuroticNeko**

This contains no Dumbledore bashing, no Weasley bashing. This is boyxboy. If you don't know what that means then you shouldn't be here.

WARNINGS: Unbetaed and this chap contains a lot of...smex

* * *

Last time:

_The hot water filled his ears and he imagined that gaze locked onto him, raking his body. Suddenly, he felt heavy, hot, pulsing pressure press into his body. It fell upon everything and Draco felt something split apart from inside of him. It forced his Veela down down __down__ and his chest ached and fluttered and thrummed and _hurt_._

_Gasping for breath, Draco felt the water run off him before he twisted his neck and found Potter's eyes staring piercingly into his._

* * *

Draco trembled as Potter crawled towards him, a predator in his gait, hunger in his eyes. He turned his face away, uneasy, and stared at the foam on his legs and watched the way the suds floated in the hot water. Every one of Draco's nerve endings were open and eager, trembling, yearning for touch. Waiting, waiting for that inevitable moment of contact, and it came.

Warm fingers pressed into the nape of his nape and twisted themselves into his wet hair. Draco gulped nervously and the air cooled the skin not submerged in the water. Slowly, carefully he was pulled around and then everything was lost in a haze as his lips were devoured. His skin slid against cold porcelain and he closed his eyes as he was pulled out of the hot water and into Potter's lap; where the hand on the back of his neck and the arm around his waist worked together to press him against Potter's chest. Draco was fighting to breath, his head was fuzzy, his lips were burning, his _body _was burning. Then those warm, dry lips were caressing the side of his jaw and Draco was able to breathe, tiny breaths that further pressed his bare chest onto Potter's thinly clothed one. He felt muscles bunch up behind him as Potter's hand pressed against his waist and one moved down to cup his arse. Draco felt a shock of pleasure dance through his system at the feel of naked skin against naked skin. Then, the Golden Boy's mouth was upon his again- and this time, it was wet, it was wild and Draco's mouth opened of its own accord to let the hurricane in. He was hyper aware of the tongue that petted his erotically and of the smooth texture of Potter's jaw, he was aware of the place where his pelvis was crushed against the Gryffindor's, aware of the cold floor that pressed against his knees. They parted for a moment, wild green eyes boring into his eyes before he was abruptly pulled into that warm heat once more.

And this time, there was so much more. Potter's scent was overwhelming and heady, filling his senses and dimly, as he was devoured, he felt his cock nudge awake, slowly filling with blood. He squirmed in Potter's lap, his penis firming up rapidly, and found Potter's own hardness pressing against his stomach, where it had been pressing the whole time, leaving a spot of dampness on Potter's infirmary gown. A thrill of desire and pleasure thrummed up Draco's spine and he was panting, fingers scrabbling at the thin cloth that caressed the firm, tan flesh.

Draco wasn't sure when it happened nor how, but somehow both of them ended up breathless, gasping for air as Draco's fingers clawed into the Savior's back and Potter's fingers gripped Draco's waist tightly. Their groins were pressed tightly together, the thin cloth that separated their cocks was almost non-existent as they desperately grinded, seeking release. Potter growled and his chest rumbled as their manhoods rubbed and slid wetly against each other. Draco felt his eyes roll back into his head as the pleasure spiked and he broke off the kiss, burying his head into the crook of Potter's neck. Where the dominant scent was strongest.

A sharp, burning pain flared into existence as Potter sucked harshly on Draco's collarbone before it disappeared just as quickly, and there was only the indescribable sensation of being crushed against Potter's chest as they rutted against each other on the infirmary floor. And then somehow, Draco's hands were pressed against Potter's shoulder blades, with the gown bunched up around his elbows, in a bid to press the boy closer, to meld them together. Draco hissed as the cloth was eliminated, Potter's cock was a branding iron against his own and it was delicious. Whining, he writhed his whole body against the Savior's, rubbing the other boy's scent all over him.

Swiftly and unexpectedly Draco was pushed to the ground with one strong thrust of Potter's hips and Draco's shoulder blades were pressed into the cold floor.

Draco looked up at Potter, despite the haze of lust running through his veins. The Saviour was poised above him, tanned arms and chest surrounded him and the pressure of the boys hips on his effectively trapped him. Not that Draco was trying to get away from this anyway. Potter began thrusting again and sparks went off behind the Slytherin's eyes. Everything was somehow more _intense_ in this position, Potter's thrusts lasted longer and they pressed harder against Draco's erection- while the Saviour's eyes bore into his. Draco couldn't look away.

Eventually, Potter started humping Draco's leg erratically and Draco felt his own climax approaching. Heavy breathing filled the room and he shut his eyes as the sensations became too much, too overwhelming. When the feeling of impending release roared over him, Draco wrapped his legs around Potter's waist and shouted, "Yes- _ahn ahhnn, YES!" _before his cock twitched and pearly liquid splashed over Potter's taut stomach. Draco allowed himself to go absolutely limp and soon, with a grinding thrust Potter growled low and loud, nipping the love bite on Draco's collarbone as long strings of come erupted over their bellies.

Draco's eyes shuttered closed as exhaustion rolled over him and he laid there, utterly spent, with the Boy-Who-Lived draped over him.

* * *

Harry watched with wonder as Draco's pale blonde lashes lay flush against his cheeks and gently, almost reverently, he stretched his fingers out and touched the damp hair against Draco's forehead. The hair was soft and silky, even when wet, and it curled itself softly around Harry's finger, limp and pliant. His eyes travelled over the aristocratic features and over the soft lips. He looked upon the sharp, bony chin in awe and wondered at the beauty of the boy in front of him. Had Draco _always _been this enchanting creature before him?

He looked down lower, spied the yellowing bruises and felt ill. _Never, never again, _he thought, stroking his fingers over the bruises.

Harry felt something melt within him and he leaned forward and pressed his lips upon the sleeping Draco's. Warm breath puffed over his lips and Harry was barraged with a sweet scent- a soft lemony smell with a faint influence of expensive perfume. Harry pressed his face against the crook of Draco's neck. The smell was divine…but how come he'd never smelt it before? Surely he'd have smelt Draco at least once in all of their classes together?

Harry lifted himself gently off of the Slytherin and picked up the pair of towels that were laid on one of the spare beds. He knelt by Draco and slowly began wiping off the evidence of their activities.

After he was done, he used the remaining clean towel to dry them both off. With utmost care and gentleness, Harry dressed them both before depositing Draco onto his cot.

There was a moment of hesitation when Harry looked down at the sleeping form. Should he climb in as well? He was tempted, horribly tempted. He wanted to scoop the thin form up and cuddle it close to his chest while he drifted off into slumber.

Harry shuddered. With reluctance, he fell into his bed and pulled the sheets over his head.

After he had counted to the three hundredth and sixty ninth sheep, Harry grew frustrated and shucked his covers off. He couldn't sleep. Memories of what had just happened, of what had happened _with Draco, _were keeping him alert and slightly aroused. He turned his head and looked at the snoozing form across from him.

Harry huffed quietly and turned around, so that his back faced away from Draco. What _were _they going to do the next morning?

* * *

Harry awoke to the smell of hot porridge. He woke, yawning and stretching his arms. Groggily, he opened his eyes- and immediately shut them when strong sunlight assaulted him. He breathed deeply for a moment, and was aware of a gentle tugging feeling on the back of his head. Tilting his face in its direction, he saw Draco sitting on small table set up in the middle of the spare infirmary room.

Feeling his bones creak and protest, he heaved himself off the bed and plodded over to where the Malfoy was sitting quietly, eyes focused on the pot of sugar.

The closer Harry came to Draco, the stranger he felt. The little niggling on the back of his mind grew and he felt the urge to wrap his arms around the blonde and spoon feed him little bites of porridge. Harry scratched the back of his head when he reached the chair.

Should he sit down?

The events of last night seemed to catch up with him and the Ive-Just-Woken-Up mindset disappeared. It was replaced with Oh-My-God-What-Should-I-Do!?

Nervously, Harry gripped the back of the chair, it was plastic and warmed quickly in his palm. Shaking his hair away from his eyes, he peered down at the Slytherin opposite him.

His face was bright, neon red.

Harry felt his face heat up in sympathy.

"Umm…..I-"

'Shut it, Potter"

"Yes, Draco" Harry ducked his head and poured the jug of milk into the bowl set up in front of him. When he reached for the sugar pot, Draco's voice sliced through the air.

"What did you just call me?!"

Harry jumped slightly in his seat and blinked owlishly at the blonde.

"Malfoy?"

"No! You called me…you called me-! You called me _Draco"_

Harry sank into his seat. His mind had betrayed him. Stupid brain. Harry cleared his throat and sought to defend the little shred of courage he still had.

"Well…after last night…I mean, like… I mean, we did _that _and…wouldn't it change things? I mean like, you've probably done things like that before, and it probably didn't mean anything to you but…uh…it felt good? Really good? I wouldn't mind, urm, doing it aga-"

_POV Change:_

Draco shot him a look and bit viciously into his spoonful of porridge, he _had not _done things like that before! Like, he had never done it _naked! _It had always been strictly clothes-on. Draco swallowed and thought about it. Did that count?

"Fine, _Harry" _

…_Wait _a second…

Pott- _Harry liked it? _Hewouldn't mind doing it _again!? _Draco's mind shrieked into his mind's ear. He almost spat his porridge out. He fumbled for a serviette and wiped it across his mouth.

"Again!?" His mouth worked silently.

Harry looked slightly abashed. "Uhhh…yeah, it felt good?"

Draco swallowed the porridge still in his mouth. A faint tugging sensation pulled at the back of his neck. Ohhh god. Last night was coming back in torrents and floods. The faint cloud he had been keeping himself inside burst and Draco was doused in a shock of cold (or rather, burning hot) water. His limbs tingled and his breath quickened minutely.

…_only the indescribable sensation of being crushed against Potter's chest as they rutted against each other on the infirmary floor…_

Draco squirmed in his seat and averted his eyes as Harry gulped down his first spoonful of porridge.

_POV Change:_

Harry really didn't know _what _he was thinking. But as he watched lips that had been gasping and moaning under _his _last night, wrap themselves around. He suddenly wondered…

He put his spoon down with a clink and watched, mesmerised, as the pale column worked to swallow the food. Grey eyes lifted and watched him warily beneath a pale blonde fringe of hair. Harry locked their gazes together and stretched his arm out, letting the tips of his fingers trail over the pointed chin. The pale skin trembled under his touch and the grey irises darkened. Harry leaned forwards and hooked a finger beneath the chin. He paused then, and looked searchingly at Draco. The blonde opened his lips and leaned into Harry's touch.

Harry gently pulled the Malfoy towards him and let their lips touch in the briefest of moments. Sweet, sweet pleasure washed through Harry and he caressed the short hairs on the back of Draco's neck to pull him closer. Their lips touched again and Harry grazed his mouth over Draco's, breathing in his scent. They parted again and Draco looked up at him, his eyes were blown and a pink flush adorned his cheeks.

"Harry…"

Harry leaned forwards and captured Draco's lips again, and this time he opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against the seam of Draco's mouth, tasting the flesh there. The lips yielded beneath his and Harry's tongue entered the porridge-tasting mouth, scouring the last dregs of oatmeal from Draco's mouth. They paused for breath and Harry reached across the table to grip both of Draco's hands. Still panting for breath, they re-joined, their wet appendages dancing shyly together within the blondes mouth.

When they separated again, Harry cupped Draco's face within his palms.

"Draco…" he breathed, feathering his thumbs over his face. The blonde shuddered within his palms. He gazed upon the face across from his in wonderment. He had…never felt this way about anyone before in his life. Not Cho. Not Ginny.

Last night. Both of them. Writhing on the ground. Together.

Harry knew that the heat that had fallen over him last night had definitely been the fault of his Scáth- but was that such a bad thing…?

Harry remembered the hot, violent kiss they shared on the ballroom floor, he remembered the jealousy, the possessiveness that filled him when he found Draco pinning Goyle against the wall, he remembered waking up with a caring Draco, a gentle Draco who applied bruise balm to his skin when there was really no reason for him to do so, he remembered the hot pressure of last night, when something in his brain went _click! _And he prowled over and staked his claim over Draco…

His claim…

Draco opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something when the door opened and Madam Pomfrey walked in, a cheerful smile on her face.

They sprang apart guiltily.

"Good morning, boys! How was breakfast?" she said gaily, waving her wand about to open the windows and let fresh air in.

Harry floundered about but it was Draco who answered her, in a somewhat tremulous (but still very snobbish) voice.

"Good morning, Madam Pomfrey."

Harry echoed him, spooning up some porridge to distract himself. Pomfrey looked expectantly towards him and Harry stopped, racking his brain for something to say- but Draco answered well enough for both of them. He began with a big sigh.

"I suppose I must tell you. The porridge had barely any taste- I thought I was eating sand- and I had to douse it in almost non-existent sugar. You're not going to tell me there is a sugar shortage at Hogwarts, is there? Because judging by the desserts we get in the Great Hall, there hasn't been a shortage in Hogwarts since the Founders founded Hogwarts itself-"

Madam Pomfrey giggled and then started gasping for laughter as he progressed. "I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a certain Malfoy in my infirmary! Oho! Such _fun"_

Harry looked at the shaking healer. "Are you okay, Madam?"

"Fine. Fine. Ahaha- SAND! The house elves much _really _love you!"

Draco scowled into his bowl. Madam Pomfrey wiped her tears and waved the dishes and table away. They remained sitting in their chairs at her order and sat still as she performed diagnostic tests with her wand.

"Very good, Mr Potter! The bruises will be gone in a day and the swelling on your ribs are remarkable reduced. The tail, however, that needs more work. You're going to have to stay here another day or so. We need a cast for it to set properly"

Harry blanched at the thought of having to wrap his tail in gauze. It would look like a bloody sausage, it would.

She moved over and patted Draco on the knee. The Malfoy scion stiffened in his seat.

"All is good, Mr Malfoy…all the bruises on your neck are only shadows of what they were and they shan't be giving you any more pain…The bruises on your back are also very nearly gone. All you need it to drink a potion inside the cart I gave you two. It's for damaged muscles and if you drink it now you may go back to you dormitory tonight"

She patted his knee again and he almost sprang off the chair, looking for the potion.

Winking at them both, she disappeared out of the door way, taking the two chairs with her.

Harry walked over to where Draco was rummaging for his potion and grabbed the roll of gauze he had been so frustrated with before. Sitting down gingerly on his bed, he twisted awkwardly and rolled the gauze around his tail. Harry frowned and tried to pull the gauze off the roll. It wouldn't budge and felt like cement under his hands.

The blonde in front of him gulped down his potion and Harry looked at the roll in his hands, disgruntled.

"You know…I have a theory, _Harry._ Remember that slip of paper Dumbledore so conveniently left for us? I reckon this whole thing with the balms and gauze is one great big scheme. Dumbledore's scheme. He said 'unless the relationship between you to get better, right? I still can't apply the bloody bruise balm to myself- but I bet you a Gallon, Harry, that if I get my hands on that roll of gauze, it will unroll perfectly"

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNDUN! I finished! **

**See ya, **

**-NeuroticNeko**


End file.
